Of Blondes that Bite and Stab
by starmouse
Summary: I can't tell you. Ironic Alt~Uni with just enough IC language to make it risky to mark it PG. B/S. Spike's in it, and he's not whining about some stupid soul he picked up in Africa, either. -->Ch.12 enjoys clogging.
1. What exactly is going on?

Greetings. This is my alternate universe based on a universe alternate to ours, created by Joss Whedon and friends. Waka waka waka. But the clever premise is mine. Or it would be, if it wasn't old and recycled.

~Star Mouse

Night fell. And two groups took their rightful places in the shadows:

Those of darkness, and those that hunt them.

Buffy pulled on her coat and headed out into the night. Her predatory stalk and general 'mess with me and die' demeanor made it pretty obvious which one she was. Time to go do her duty to society.

Spike roused himself, and checked the clock. Night. Time for some fun. He pulled on his jacket, and grabbed a few stakes, slipping them into the deep pocket. Better safe than sorry, in this trecherous town.

Two hunters; a vampire and a slayer; yen, yang, night, day, death, death. And, oddly, both blonde. 

Many creatures wandered the streets at night, but they were small fish. Only two elements really mattered. The Master and the Master's match.

A vampire that lives to 100 tends to be a fighter. A Slayer that survives a few years on the job tends to be a killer. And, in all honesty, that's the closest to an equal either will ever see.

  
. . .Enough with the mood~establishing. I think you get the point.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .damn. I think I just ruined the mood.

Buffy's eyes darted right and left, looking for quarry. It was unbelievable how many idiotic people visited the graves after dark. You'd think Natural Selection would have weeded out all the residents with _those _sucicidal tendacies by now. But no. They were always easy pickings for the vampires inhabiting the place. Good bait.

But tonight seemed to be a Moron Holiday, or something. Not a peep. Well, except for that cracking twig over there.

Superhuman strength saved her as the dark figure rushed, head shining white in the night. She flipped him, tripped him, kicked him in the gut and hopped back, waiting.

Spike sprung up, growled, and drew a stake.

Buffy froze, her duster still billowing from the flipping movements of the last few seconds. She swallowed, and took in the figure before her. Black clothes, white hair, dead hot.

...Wearing a crucifix, wielding a stake. His hand reached into his charcoal grey coat, and she saw the top of a bottle of clear liquid emerge from his pocket.

She forced sarcasm into her voice. "Oh, I see. A professional." She danced back on the balls of her feet, a bit, just short of shadowboxing, ready to bolt at any moment if she got out of her league. It wouldn't do to die right now.

Spike's heart beat faster. She was hot. It was harder to kill the hot ones. Easier to forget that they killed to live. Don't look. Don't look.... Damn. He'd looked. What was that song... 'I wanna girl with a short skirt and a looong jacket.'? And what a nice jacket it was. Too bad it obscured her ass. Huh? What?

Oh. Right. This was a banter moment.

"Professional. Except I get paid in dust. Wanna send me to college?" _Dammit. That was _so_ lame, you utter utter idiot. Don't be distracted by the very nice legs. . . _

. . . Dammit!

The vampire in front of him snorted. But she didn't move, still eyeing the stake. "College? You won't live to see college."

Spike shrugged. "Ah well, I hear the workload's a bitch anyway."

The vampire cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. "Who are you? You sure don't act like any vigilante demon~hunter I've ever kill~I mean met." She smirked when her 'slip' contributed to a slight speed in the guy's tripping heart. He covered well, though. Nothing but the slightest of furrows warked his expression as anything but perfect calm. Until he smirked back at her. _Ooo. _Nice_ face._

"Not a vigilante, then, am I?" he shot back. "'M the Slayer. Tell your friends. Oh. Wait. You won't be able too." he whapped himself lightly on the forehead. "Piles of dust don't talk."

The female vampire before him brought her head straight, both eyebrows up, now. "A _Slayer_! Well well well... Haven't seen one of you people since ...have to be Paris. 1957." She smirked. "Best fight I've ever had. Best blood..." She rubbed her tummy, exposing taut abs as her top rode up.

Spike ran and kicked at her, but she deflected it with an arm, sending him stumbling. She returned with a quick jab and vaulted up a tall memorial obelisk. She perched on the peak, her leather duster underneath her.

"I'm not a fledgling, Slayer. I'm a Master. A hundred~fifty years worth of Slayers couldn't kill me. I'm Elizabeth the Black. Tell your friends." 

She smiled cruelly as Spike picked himself up off the ground, cradling a bruised arm. "Oh, wait," She added. "Slayers don't have friends."

She sent him an impish grin and shot off the marker, landing on the far side and running into the deep dark night.

He didn't even bother to follow.

"...And you say she called herself Elizabeth?"

"'The Black'," Spike nodded. He was sitting in the library, fingering the spiral of his notebook. Filled with doodles, not schoolwork. His dad would have a fit when the grades came in. Of course, his dad had a fit when anything happened.

Spike's Watcher frowned thoughtfully. "Huh. This could be very bad." Trotted off. In search of a book, no doubt. Watchers always liked big dusty books in dead languages. He and his friends had formulated a complex theory about why. They made them feel secure, like a teddy bear.

"Bad? As in, 'danger' bad?" One of the table's other occupants caught the _important _part.

"Do you really need to ask?" Faith rolled her eyes at the tall young man. 

Angel shrugged. "Just thought we should clear it up."

"Hey, Spike-- You ever do the rest of that Chemistry assignment after you got home last night?" Faith flicked a braid off her shoulder and bit her pencil. Spike managed to look sheepish.

"Of course he didn't. He was too busy fantasizing about this Liz Black person. She _was_ hot, right?" Angel looked to his friend for confirmation. 

Spike nodded. "_Hoo_, yeah. Uh. I mean. No. Bad. Very bad vampire. Not hot at all. ...Especially not in that coat..." he muttered.

"Ah, here. I found it." Jenny Calendar clomped out of her office, reading from a page in, surprise, a big dusty book. How did the books stay so dusty? It seemed like half of them were in use at any given time. Maybe it was special dust. She laid it down on the library table, and pointed.

"Was that her, Spike?"

Spike looked at the black and white photo affixed to the page. Obviously old, all yellow and crinkly.

"Yeah, that's her." The same vamp from last night. She wasn't smiling, but most people weren't, in old photos. Usually 'cause of the lack of dentists. She looked exactly the same, except with obvious differences in fashion, and what not.

Jenny looked pleased for a moment. "Good. I couldn't find anything at first because after about..." she checked a page in a smaller book she was holding, "Eighteen~ninety, she started going by 'Buffy' most of the time." Reading on, she bit her lip. "This could be very bad, indeed. Elizabeth the Black. Buffy. Whoever she is, is a vicious beast."

"Aren't they all?" Angel asked. "I mean, that _is _the crux of the vampire concept, right? Irredemable monsters?" 

Jenny shot him a look, and continued speaking. "Elizabeth is no laughing matter. She's a master. Over one~hundred twenty years old." As she talked, Spike stared at the picture, trying to connect this woman to the monster, the fact that, according to said beast, his Watcher was off by at least thirty years bugging him a bit. Jenny Calendar rubbed the charm around her neck. "In that time, she has come up against three Slayers. She killed them all."

Spike looked up. "So? They weren't me."

Jenny sighed. "Spike, I don't think you're taking this seriously enough. You should be careful. You're really lucky you aren't as dead as the others."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Jenny."

Faith spoke up, still fiddling nervously with the pencil. "Yeah. Whoever this chick is, I'm sure Spike~man can take care of it."

Angel nodded agreement. "She's right. It's not like he hasn't faced tougher ones, right? I mean, the Master--"

"Ugh. Sorry if I don't sound thrilled at this new threat, but Buffy is not to be taken lightly. Spike, promise me; If you come up against her again, exercise caution. You're strong, yes. But you aren't unkillable."

"No," he said. "But neither is she."

"Spike? Spike, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me, Da."

Rupert Giles appeared in the doorframe leading to the living room, Wall Street Journal in hand. The glasses were off. Bad sign.

Spike wanted to tell his dad about the 'destined to fight evil' thing. He really did. But he also didn't want to be locked in a hamster~ball for the rest of his life, which would probably be his father's reaction.

He kept his father in the dark for his own good. The divorce had been hard on both of them, and Spike decided that thinking he had a juvenile delinquent for a son would be better for Rupert Giles than knowing his son spent his 'free' time risking death, saving the world being a secondary issue.

"Your principal called. He said you'd been skipping class again."

--#%^. Most of the time.

"Angel! How're you doing? Is Spike here yet?" Faith looked around the Bronze, seeking the familiar white blonde head.

"He's not coming. His dad grounded him. Apparently Snyder called him and told him about Spike's attendance.." he took a sip of coke. "As in, the lack thereof."

"Oh." Faith tried not to seem too disappointed. But it was a new outfit and everything. She slumped into a high chair next to Angel.

Angel noticed the damper in her mood. It wasn't like her crush on Spike was any big secret. Like Angel's crush on Faith apparently was. He drank some more coke.

They sat there in silence for a while, not really having to say anything. It wasn't like they didn't talk all day in school. Sometimes they just ran out. It happened. No biggie. Angel felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey. You... um ... Wanna dance?"

He turned to look at the girl smiling shyly at him. She looked vaguely familiar. Oh, wait.

"Are you in my math class?"

"Uh, yeah. Okay. Sure. I'm Annie. I'm, uh, really quiet." She smiled, obviously a little embarrassed, and scratched her eyebrow. "I --uh-- never asked anyone to dance with me before. Oh, it's okay for you to say no! I'd totally get it."

Angel smiled. "A dance would be great."

Annie blinked, like she was genuinely surprised she hadn't been turned down. "Really? Wow! I mean, cool!" She smiled. Woah. Great smile.

Angel waved a hand in front of Faith's face. "I'll be back." She nodded a little, and dragged his abandoned coke in front of her to finish.

He led Annie to the dance floor.

There was a song already going. Sort of medium tempo. Annie seemed kind of awkward, like she wasn't really sure how to move. Angel took her arms and started swaying. She got the beat and he let go, but stayed close.

"So, you come here a lot?" he shouted in her ear.

She stood on he toes to answer. "No! It's too smoky! If I breath in too much smoke, I *_coughcough_*" 

He pulled back when she coughed in his ear, waiting for her to stop. But she didn't. She half~doubled at the waist, one hand over her mouth, coughing loudly.

Angel took her by the arm. He should probably get her out of here, before she choked.

He got her, coughing, out the exit door and into the alley right outside. She leaned against the wall, head bowed, coughing violently.

He hovered, unsure what to do.

"Uh, you want me to get you some water, or something?"

"No," she said. "I'm fine." She turned her head up, and the light caught on brow ridges a Klingon would envy. 

Angel barely had time to think _Oh, shit._ Before deceptively strong arms grabbed him, pulling his head down where she could reach it.

"So tall..." she lisped. "More for me."

Angel felt the fangs pierce his neck, and he thought about Faith. She wouldn't even know he'd died loving her. He couldn't even struggle, really. No fight. The hold was too tight, too careful. His blood being drained. He'd die, in an alley, without a fight.

"Gahh!" The fangs ripped --painfully-- from his throat. The hold suddenly disappeared. Realizing he'd been saved --again, thank God-- he backed up quickly, away from the vamp.

"For goodness' sake, Angel! I thought you knew better!" There was the sound of a punch, and a little 'oof!'. Angel's vision was kind of blurry. But, hey, blind panic wasn't named for nothing.

"Yeah, well. Gotta keep you on your toes," Angel answered, fingering the welling cuts on his neck. Should that much blood be coming out?

"Go wash that out! Get Faith to take you to the hospital, or something." Spike shouted. "I can take it from here." There was a karate noise in the shadows, and another gasp of expelled air. Angel stumbled to the door, and retreated, all thoughts of heroism forgotten.

Leaving Spike and the vampire alone in the alley.

"Slayer! Lovely to see you again so soon! So, do you want to die _now_, or wait for some ritualistic sacrifice in the future?"

A few blows were exchanged. Spike got a stake in his hand. If only he could see her properly... "Dunno, pet. Which'd be more fun, you think?"

"Oh, definitely the rituals. Some require tattoos."

Spike lunged at the voice, and got a jab to the ribs for his trouble.

"Ah ah ah! Bad Slayer. No pie for you!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" he growled.

Elizabeth paused. _Woah. Nice noise._ And she could see him in the dark, even if he couldn't see her. Way hot. The last Slayer had been short. This one was too, sort of. But not when compared to her 5'2. He was the perfect height for her to look up into his eyes, and they would probably fit just perfect if she leaned up, and he leaned down...

"WhumF!" She flew backwards into the wall, all inner musings forgotten except the one that went, '_ouchouchouchouch_'.

"Bloody--" she started. And suddenly the Slayer was right in front of her, stake in hand. She was pinned by his other arm, her hands caught in front of her.

She couldn't even fight back. She was going to die tonight, in this alley, without a fight.

Spike glared at the vampire he had pinned. Time to end it--

Before he could do anything, her face shot up, suddenly human, and ravaged his. In a good way.

Spike just stood there startled for a second, before he realized he was kissing the blood~sucking fiend right back. _What the hell--  
_  
"Oof!" Spike's grip loosened, and he sunk to his knees. Buffy yanked her arms free and grabbed the stake from his loose hand before he recovered from the blow to his pride and manhood.

She skipped lightly off into the darkness, her cry of, "See you around, Slayer!" echoing down the street.

Spike knelt, blinking for a few minutes.

"ow."

  
I honestly don't know whether I should continue this, or just leave Spike all falsetto in the alley. Reviews will sway my decision, big time. That's not a threat, or anything. Merely a request for a bribe. I'm a dirty politician. Without the politics. Or the dirt.

Read my other story, "Irony Becomes Her." It rocks [said the shameless self~promoter.]

~Star Mouse 


	2. Woah That's familiar

Story's back. Have fun frolicking. If you honestly have to be told that these characters aren't mine, just head back to the first chapter.  
If you need closure and conclusions in your stories, review, so I keep going to the end. If you need a plot, or something silly like that, send in your suggestions [in the form of reviews]. Send any flames that you are possessed to compose to my e-mail, so I'm not embarrassed in front of all my little friends.

~Star Mouse

&& && &&

Not really wanting to explain to his friends why he let the Buffy person get away, he waited out in the alley until he could walk, and then snuck back home, to Revello Drive.

Shimmied in through the window like a pro, if a bit stiffly. He climbed into bed with a combination of guilty~teenager~silence and Slayer~stealth, and set his alarm. Then he lay in bed, thinking very bad thoughts involving vampire lips.

&& && &&

Buffy wandered around town a bit, fed off a not~so~lucky~in~the~friends~arena guy, and made it back to "The Lair" with ample time to spare before sunrise.

The two other occupants of the crypt looked up, probably from something naughty she didn't want to contemplate.

"Buffy," the guy said, in a fatalistic monotone. Pale skin, black hair, sort of spiked. White wife~beater and black leather.

"Xander," she returned, in a slightly more annoyed tone.

The woman sitting on his lap cocked her head. She had somehow managed to retain a semblance of the tan she must have had in life. Dark hair, great body. Dressed in the latest in chic~Goth~wear.

"Buffy. You smell like ...Slayer."

"We fought," she replied shortly, stalking over to the nearest sarcophagus and taking a seat. She lay down, facing the ceiling, so she wouldn't have to deal with awkward eye contact.

The woman raised her eyebrows. "Huh. I take it you lost, then?"

Buffy sighed. "I didn't *lose*, Cordelia. I'm just...biding my time."

Xander tapped his chin with mock confusion, even though Buffy couldn't see it. "'Biding her time...Cordy, does that sound like our Elizabeth?"

"Sure doesn't. I think she lost. Buffy, he isn't one of those 'merciful' ones, is he? He didn't let you _go_, did he?"

"He didn't let me go! I .let..him...go. ...."

"Uh huh. And why would you do a silly thing like that?" The female vampire who had once been a woman named Cordelia leaned into Buffy's field of vision. "Not going soft in your old age, are you Sire?"

Buffy growled, vamping for an instant. "Of course not. I _do_ have a plan, you know."  
  
Cordelia rolled her eyes and leaned back away from the sarcophagus, heading back over to Xander, who hadn't moved. 

"Yeah, yeah. We know. The 'plan'!" She made little air quotes. Then she rolled her eyes again and dropped her hands. "Big whoop."

Buffy growled again, this time not only vamping but launching up from the stone slab and catching her childe in a choke hold.

"The plan," she whispered, voice deceptively calm, "is a good one. A very good one. And it. will. work. And it requires a live Slayer." She slowly loosened her grip on Cordelia's throat. Pulled her hand completely away. Backed up a pace, glancing at the taciturn Xander, still sitting in the same spot.

"...for now," she added.

&& && &&

"So you'd rate her a 'reasonably skilled fighter,' or an 'exceptionally skilled fighter?'" Jenny Calendar asked. Spike bit his lip, still more focused on the fight's abrupt end than it's duration.

"Exceptionally." _Just the right amount of tongue..._

Jenny scribbled in her Watcher diary for a moment. "And would you describe her general manner as 'uncaring', 'fierce', 'manic', 'gleeful,' or 'strangely distant'?"

"Mm... Fierce. And manic." _Yum. _ He sat bolt upright. Yum?! What the blessed chalice was he thinking? "Uh, I mean, um, more like gleeful, really."

Jenny Calendar's eyes narrowed. "So, a little of all three, then?"

"Uh, sure."

"I expect you to write up a blow~by~blow of the fight, for my records. You didn't see her on patrol today?"

"A' course I didn't. It's broad daylight! How'm I supposed to kill vamps if I'm under house arrest after sundown?"

Jenny shook her head, still a little baffled at this new hurdle. "I'll have to speak with your father, or something. How long are you supposed to stay here?"  
  
"Until my Da comes and picks me up at five~thirty. Stupid grounding."

"Yes, well, you did skip class."

"I was running errands for you, you crazy woman!"

"Spike, you were not. If I wanted you to go take on nests in the middle of the day, I'd tell you too. As it is--"

"Uh, excuse me?"

Both turned to look at the newcomer. He held up a book.

"I checked this out la--a while ago, and I think there may be a late fee..."

Jenny Calendar just kept looking at him. "And..." she prompted.

"...And, you're the librarian?"

She blinked. "Oh. Right. I'll just, uh--" She got up off the table and headed towards the check~out counter. "Spike, you just keep working on that ...dramatic scene... For awhile longer. Then start back on that short fiction from earlier."

Spike muttered something rude and went back to his 'homework,' which had been substituted for a book on vampiric lines and histories. 

That Buffy was a little _vixen_. Slayed three Slayers; even turned one, and her little Watcher, too. Originally Scottish, but it looked like she'd carved a pretty complete circle through most of Europe.

And woah! According to this, she'd been at Woodstock, too! Nice.

"You checked this out _last year_?" 

Spike looked up.

"Uh, well, you see... It was under my bed, and I--"

"You realize after six weeks the due turns into the book's asking price, don't you?"

"...And that would be..."

"You're gonna buy us a new gym, you libroklepto." Thunder rolled in the distance.

Spike smiled. He was glad he hadn't gotten a stodgy old guy for a watcher. Much better to have a reformed mystical convict on his side. Especially when she called on the forces of darkness over an overdue book. Made things interesting.  
  
He checked his watch. Still twenty minutes until his da came by. Ah well. He could do some more. . . Research.

&& && &&

Buffy glanced at her watch. It was a nice watch. The kind certain people would kill for. She had.

It was nearly sunset. She had plans for tonight. She should probably wake up the childer.

&& && &&

"Spike, bully for you. You're actually where I told you to be."

Spike looked up. His dad was standing in the library doors in all his tweed~coated glory. Spike started gathering his books.

"Hey, Da. Been here all night. Ready to leave."

"I'd just like to confirm that first part with the librarian, if I could. Gather your things; I'll just be a minute."

Rupert Giles wandered off into Jenny Calendar's office.

Spike tossed all his books into his backpack and stood.

And waited.

A few minutes later, he heard laughter coming from the office.

He sighed. _For the love of-_- "Da! Any time now!"

The two adults emerged. His father had his glasses off, furiously cleaning them. 

Jenny was laughing at whatever Rupert had just said. She caught Spike's raised eyebrow and ended it on an embarrassed cough.

"Yes, well. Thank you again for agreeing to tutor my son. He's really very bright--"

"Oh yes, I agree," replied Ms. Calendar. She shot Spike a look. "He just needs to apply himself. However, I usually have other students here during this time, so it might be easier for him to come by, say, after dinner."

"Oh, yes, of course. That should be fine. Spike?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Sure." Clever Watcher. Now he was open to slay. Of course, he'd have to keep his grades on the rise for his da to buy it. And what could they had possibly been talking about in there if this was a subject change?

He grabbed his da's arm and pulled him from the library, shouting a good~bye to Jenny.

When they were in the car home, Rupert got a thoughtful look on his face.  
  
"Charming woman."

&& && &&

Buffy walked over to the sarcophagus Cordelia and Xander were asleep on. The watcher had his arm draped over the tanned Slayer using his shoulder as a pillow.

Awww.

Buffy smiled, grabbed them both by their dark hair, and pulled.

&& && &&  
  
"Feed. Have fun. Keep anybody and _everybody_ out of this area for about three hours. Do you understand?"

"We're not stupid, Buffy. Xander and I can handle it." Cordelia vamped, and turned around. "No sweat."

Xander nodded, and then turned to follow her, also vamped.

Buffy watched them go, then set off through the newly apportioned Interference~Free Zone. She had things to do, and she'd really prefer not to be watched. Or interrupted. Doing magic always made her feel like an idiot.

She reached the grave.

Making sure no one was looking, she kneeled down in front of the grave of Joyce Summers. Her great~great~grand niece. Her last descendant. Stupid spell and it's ridiculous requirements.

She took a deep breath. You have to, what with the requirement of air being forced through your vocal chords in being able to talk.

"Hello, Joyce. This is Elizabeth. The one that disappeared. The one that everyone thought had run away from that creepy suitor. The one you got your middle name for. I am a creature of darkness now, and just thought you should know." *Stupid spell.* "So, since I've_ confronted my last heir about my nature,_" she stressed the phrase to make sure any demigods happening to be listening caught it, "I am now free to go, and free to invoke your name to my aide." She stood quickly. "May you have peace, like I do not."

The most humiliating part done, she got on with the rest of the ritual.

Close to three hours later, leaving the sight of some seriously messy magic, she spied something on the ground.

Intrigued, she picked it up. A folded leather wallet. Oh, goodie! Treasure. She flipped it open to see how much she'd won. And read the ID.

And laaaughed.

&& && &&

The next day at shool, Faith laughed hysterically as Spike recounted Jenny and Rupert's first meeting. Angel brooded, with a discreet bandage still in his neck.

"Well, if it isn't the black cotton squad. Enjoying your lives as social pariahs?"

Angel looked up at the fashionably dressed redhead standing in front of them, flanked by the popularity police.

"Willow."

"'Angel.' 'Faith.' 'Spike.'" She glanced at each one in turn, and put a finger to her chin in mock~confusion. "I forget the story there; you're mother's were all smoking together when they named you...?"

"Willow, make like a tree and leaf."  
  
The redhead raised her eyebrows. "Why, Faith! How clever! You should really take that act into oncoming traffic." But she flounced off, followed by ...her followers.

Spike watched her go. "Has she _always_ been such a bitch, or is that a recent transformation I wasn't around to witness?"

Angel shook his head. "Always and forever. But I think I'm to blame. I stole her Barbie in pre~school. I don't think she ever really got over it."

&& && &&

I didn't get as many reviews as I really wanted, but I updated anyway. Just 'cause I already had this written, mind you. I'm serious. I'll stop if you don't review. have a hit counter, and I'll just assume everyone who doesn't review hates the story. And cry.  
  
So review, please. You'll feel guilty if you don't.

~Star Mouse 


	3. Mondo UhOh

Okay, I liked it so much I had to go on. Enjoy the chapter. Review. Please.

~Star Mouse

&& && &&

With his schedule suitably adjusted, Spike went out patrolling. He managed to dust about eight vamps in the time he had before he had to get back to the library, to be picked up by his dad.   
  
Elizabeth the Black was not among them.

He got back to the library just after his dad did. Spike had checked the clock, and he wasn't late. Apparently Rupert had arrived a bit early to have a chat with Ms. Calendar. Luckily, Spike had gotten back in time that the "been in the bathroom" lie hadn't expired.

Spike really wanted to get his da out of the fluorescent lights before he realized how dusty his son was. So he grabbed his books and his father and pulled both out the door.

When he got home, he mumbled a goodnight and dashed upstairs for a shower.

&& && &&

About half an hour after he settled into bed, there was a knock by his window. He ignored it, hoping it would go away, like most other night noises.

It came again. Louder.

"What the--" He raised his head off the pillow and squinted out in the night.

One of the most terrifying things you can possibly see is a silhouette in your window, late at night. Especially the second floor.

Spike stared at the dark shape for several very loud heartbeats, before he remembered he was a Vampire Slayer. 

He gripped the stake under his pillow --don't ask-- and stood slowly. He walked to the window.

The shape waved.

Figuring he didn't really have a choice, with typical Slayer reason, he opened the window.

"Hello."

"Oh, bloody he-"  
  
"Tut tut," Buffy shook her finger at him, and adjusted her grip on the lattice.

Confusion overcame the killer instinct for the moment, but he backed away from the window, just in case.

"How did you find my house?"

Buffy chuckled and waved something in the air. He squinted.

"My wallet!" He made a grab for it, but she laughed and held it away.

"It's a _very_ interesting read, Spike." She smirked. "Someone actually christened you that?" She flipped it open. "Ah yes. 'Spike W. Giles.' No driver's license, I notice, but the student ID works, too. Address and everything."   
  
"Give me the bloody wallet."

"Nuhuh. I wanna play."

Spike narrowed his eyes. "Are you _pouting_?"

The vampire at his window put her lip back in its proper place. "No."

"Give me the wallet!"

"No. I found it. I get to keep it."

"You bloody well don't!"

"Spike? What--?"

Giles stood in the doorway. Squinting into the dark. "Who's that?"

"I-- uh..." Spike cast Buffy a panicked glance. She grinned beatifically.

"Do I finally get to meet your dad? Is that why you invited me over tonight?"

Even as Spike's eyes widened in panicked shock, Giles narrowed his. Much different than squinting. "Young man, I'll have you know you're grounded. There is no excuse for this kind of behavior." He looked at Buffy. "What are you doing hanging out the window?"

"Trying not to fall. Spike said it's the best way to sneak out late."

Giles sputtered for a second. "What the devil! Get in here." 

And with that, Buffy gained entry to the home of the Slayer.

Triumphantly, she climbed inside and stood within the threshold in all her leather coated~glory. She threw the startled Spike a smirk. Rupert missed it in his ranting.

"Well, this is the end of this, I can tell you that right now! I don't care how long it's been going on--

"--six wonderful weeks--" Buffy put in.

"--but it's going to stop right now. Spike is grounded until further notice, and I'm sure your parents are wondering where you are. I suggest you get home to them, right now." Rupert glared at the two of them. Spike just stood, slightly bewildered at how fast everything had happened.

Buffy shrugged, and turned to blow him a kiss. When she was facing away from Rupert, she vamped for a second.  
  
"Bye, Sweetie. Catch you later." She turned back, smiled at Rupert, and walked past him on her way to the door.

_Damn her--_ "Elizabeth!" She looked back.

Spike took off his crucifix and tossed it at her. She caught it without thinking, and there was a tiny sizzle.

They stood there for a second, while her hand clenched convulsively.

Rupert sniffed the air. "Is something burning?" He turned to Spike. "I'll speak to you in the morning. You're in some _serious_ trouble, young man." He headed down to figure out what was combusting in the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, Buffy dropped the cross to cradle her sizzling hand. She vamped out.

"Bastard."

"Payback. Give me my wallet, bitch."

She snarled, but threw the wallet onto his bed. "Oh well. It was totally worth it. You can't get rid of me now, Slayer. I'm in."

His brow creased as she morphed human again, sent him another confusingly innocent smile, and left.

Spike watched the closed door for a minute. 

He turned his gaze to the floor and blinked.

"What the hell?"

&& && &&

"And your dad just invited her in?"

"Well, she was hanging out the soddin' window. And since we've all worked so hard keeping him in the dark about vampires, you can't really blame him too much."

Angel nodded slowly. "So, do you think she's gonna kill you in your sleep?"

Spike considered, as he chewed Sunnydale High's version of a beefstick. "I ... I don't think so. She seems more like the 'fight to the death' kind than the emotionless 'eliminate the threat before they know what's happening' kind."

Faith poked at her mashed potatoes. She kept finding little pockets of the instant powder buried in there. It was like a treasure hunt. Or a mining operation. 

Angel brood~faced for a second, then looked back up at Spike.

"Wanna camp out at my place?"

"_Oh_, yeah. Oh, wait. I'm grounded, remember?"  
  
Faith raised an eyebrow. "You're gonna stay in a house a vampire's got free access to just because your dad says so?"

Spike blinked. "Duh. Have you _met_ my da?"

Faith shrugged. "Yeah. He's tweed~guy."

Angel gave her a bland look. "You _obviously_ haven't met his father."

&& && &&

The table in the library was covered in books. Angel and Faith were both flipping through particularly old and dusty ones, while Spike punched at a padded Jenny Calendar.

"Well I don't see anything more on Elizabeth the Black herself, but there is something in here about a couple of her childer..." Angel said slowly, then flipped back a few pages.

Jenny nodded. "And?"

"The second Slayer she fought, she turned. Some girl, Cordelia Chase. That was about 1932... And then her Watcher kicked the bucket too. Alexander Levelle Harris."

Jenny nodded. "I've heard of him. He was one of the youngest Watchers the council ever appointed."

Faith raised an eyebrow. "And look what a good job he did," she said.

Spike just kept kicking the pads.

"After she turned them, she took them with her all over Europe. It's been the three of them ever since. So that probably means they're here now, right?" He looked to Jenny for confirmation.

"A master and her two prized childer... Safe to say that's a major threat. Spike, I want you to be on the look~out, patrolling tonight. Buffy has probably brought them here for a reason. We can't stop them until we know what it is."

"And thank you for that repeat performance by Exposition~Woman," Angel muttered, barely loud enough to hear.

"What are you people _talking_ about?"

All heads turned at the slightly bewildered, but somehow still quite bitchy voice.

"I-- Oh. Um," Jenny struggled to cover. "Dramatic reading assignment. Such a strange subject. Who wrote that anyway?"

Spike rolled his eyes. She used that one every time they got caught out. He really doubted Willow cared, anyway.

But the redhead leather~skirted her way deeper into the library, brows still knit. "Uh huh. Right. I'm _in_ drama. We're doing 'Our Town.'" She raised an eyebrow at Spike, Faith, and Angel. "Shouldn't you guys be in class right now?"

"Shouldn't you?" Faith countered.

Willow held up a laminated hall pass. "Some idiot barfed on my math book. Thank God I was out of my seat. I'm here for a new one."

She turned to Ms. Calendar. "Why are you dressed up like the Pillsbury Dough Boy?" Her sweeping glaze slowly took in the rest of the scene. "And are those _swords_? Of course they're swords. Why do you have swords?"

Before anyone could protest, she had a Germanic broadsword in her well~moisturized hands.

"Ah-- Art exhibit." Jenny seemed poised on the brink of panic as the social butterfly swung the weapon around in huge, potentially destructive arcs.

Spike shot his Watcher a look.

Willow sent her a surprisingly similar, intelligent look. "Uh _huh_." She set it down. "Well, I guess that settles that, then. Perfectly logical explanation. Silly me, jumping to conclusions and thinking you guys were gonna try to go on a demon~hunt." She raised an eyebrow at Jenny.

"My book? Junior Stat. Honours."  
  
Once again reminded that she was, indeed the librarian, Jenny disappeared into the textbook closet off her office.

Willow looked around at the three students. "So you're _not_ demon~hunters, then?"

"Uh, demons? What demons?"

Willow rolled her eyes. "I'm _not_ stupid! The demons that have been setting up camp in this town since the hellmouth opened, duh."

Angel narrowed his eyes. "Hey, that's a secret."

"It would be _more_ of a secret if less people were drained of blood on a weekly basis, ya think?" She ran a hand through her hair. "I'll take it by your clever retort that I was right. You really shouldn't try to stop them, though. It's dangerous."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

She nodded. "Yes. You have no idea what you're getting yourselves into. I've been keeping an eye on the sitch for the last few months. It's way incredible. And that's not a good thing, either."

"'keeping an eye on...?'" Faith asked.

"With magic. How dense _are_ you people?"

&& && &&

Buffy blinked the sleep out of her eyes. She was up early. She could smell the sunlight through the walls. Now why...  
  
Oh, yeah. The second stage of "The Plan."

The blood of the Slayer.

This would be _very_ fun.

She pulled herself up off the sarcophagus. It was liberally sprinkled with pillows. 

Number four. She had to get ready. Shower, change, make~up. Had to look her best for such a big night. And if he happened to stake her, _well_.   
She'd rather be sent into oblivion looking _really_ hot.

&& && &&

"So you're some mystical warrior chosen to fight the ghoulies?"

"yeah."

Willow nodded. "That explains a lot."

"Such as?"

"The dent you put in your locker when you couldn't get it open? The way you and a wooden ruler 'miraculously' escaped after being trapped in the faculty lounge with the 'gang on PCP,' that mysteriously dissappeared?"

Angel shook his head. "I don't get it, Willow. I thought the whole point was that you didn't know we existed."

"That is not the point. That right there what keeps you from being popular. To give the impression of _not caring_ what people are doing, you have to know _exactly_ what they're doing." She realized she'd been just a bit too candid with the lunatic fringe. "It helps you avoid the losers," she added quickly, but her heart wasn't in it.  
  
Jenny Calendar glanced at the clock. "Shouldn't you be going back to class, Willow?"

"Oh, you'll just write me a pass after. It's no big deal."  
  
The Watcher sighed. "But surely you're missing something important in class.." she prompted.

"No, not really. Math's over. I can just find the assignment off the internet and figure it out at home. I've got study hall last, so I'm free for the rest of the day!"

"Oh goodie," Faith mumbled.

Angel patted her head.

Spike had his head in his arms, against the table top. "Is it dark yet?"

Jenny Calendar looked at the clock again, automatically, before she realized how stupid the question was.  
  
"It's 2:30."

Spike groaned. "I think I'll go to class, then, if no one else will."

Angel looked up as Spike stood. "You're doing what?"

"Class. Learning. Sounds interesting, thought I'd try it."

Jenny nodded. "Have fun. Write yourself a hall pass. I'll see you tonight."

As Spike wandered off to partake in an actual education, Willow started leafing through the books on the table.

"Who's this?"

Jenny looked down. She had the page open to a black and white photo of Elizabeth.

"That's a vampire. Elizabeth the Black. She's about 120 years old, and she's killed three Slayers. We're trying to figure out why she's in Sunnydale, before she can kill anyone else."

"Probably too late," Faith put in.

Willow stared at the photo for a few seconds. She broke off the eye contact and turned the page.

"Huh. I like her hair."

&& && &&

Hope you had fun. I honestly have no idea what to do next. What should Buffy's great and amazing "Plan" be? I seriously am drawing a blank here. (And you thought I knew what I was doing...) 

Help...

~Star Mouse 


	4. Buffy can read?

Hey. I'm back. Not sure how often I'll be updating, but I'll try for at least once a week. It's that stupid "School->College->Job->Not Living-In-A-Cardboard-Box" thing again. You know how it is.

If any of you people happen to live in Britain, would you mind cluing me in on some of the slang? 'Cause I don't, and it's sort of hard to write for three Brits without using slang at some point. Maybe make a little list, in order of "tamest --> most profane" or something. That would be great. And it would be for the good of the story, too.  
Hope you're enjoying it so far.

  
  
Spike, sitting in European History, suddenly remembered why he usually skipped this class. It was bloody boring. 

As the teacher, a guy with a toupee as natural as a yoga position, droned on, And on, And on, Spike started idle doodles in red pen, in the margin of his notebook. 

He stopped when he realized he was drawing women. In dusters. He carefully exed out all the little figures, then started coloring in the exes, until he realized he was connecting the crossbars into hearts. 

_Damn damn*_

He pulled out his black pen and carefully drew little ink stakes through the hearts. Then he labelled them 'Elizabeth the Black's Heart', and 'Dr. Point.' Then he drew little diagramic arrows, describing the path the stake would take through said heart.

There was a delicate little snort from his right.

His head spun, to see a brunette in complicated braids and a lot of blue leaning over her desk to see his little sketches.

He narrowed his eyes. "What're you lookin' at, Dru?"

Dru Cambridge, one of Willow's most devoted followers, flipped her hair. And raised her hand. "Mr. Kornicov? May I have another seat? I think Spike has some problems that could pose a threat to me."

Spike groaned and slumped down as far as he could into the little desk.

As soon as they left the library, Willow broke off from Angel and Faith and immediately put as much distance between them and herself as possible.

The two brunettes watched her retreating back.

Angel spoke first. "I don't know about you, but the last half~hour completely shook my world view."

Faith nodded, still watching Willow, who had already accumulated a small crowd of fashion zombies. "I know what you mean."

"The magic thing, and the 'intelligence' thing, and the 'actually able to carry on a conversation' thing..."

"Yeah. Weird."

  
After escaping from the alternate tortures of Faith, Angel, and Willow, Jenny slumped back in a library chair and briefly relished in the three hours she had to herself until Spike came back for his "studying."

Maybe she'd update the card catalogue, or something.

But then there was a footstep, and she leaned over to see who had just come in.

A petite blonde in black leather and ...more black leather was standing in front of the return desk.

Willow was right. She _did_ have good hair.

Jenny could feel her heart speed. She'd never reach the door. The phone wouldn't help. The stakes were locked in a cabinet on the far side of the woman idly flipping through the late lists. Her crucifix was sitting on the counter next to the sink in her bathroom.

She was really, truly, going to die. Just like all the good Watchers do.

Damned if she was going to beg for mercy, either. It would be more convincing if she could will herself to breathe out.

Oh God. She was going to die.

"Can I help you?" It was the first thing she thought of, the only thing she could think of, in her mind~freezing panic. It wasn't so much spoken as croaked. The monster in the human face turned to her and smiled disarmingly.

"I'm looking for Spike Giles. I was told the schedule records are kept here."

_So she doesn't know about me_. "School's over."

"Oh, is it?" Buffy pouted. Then shrugged. "I guess that would explain the lack of students. And faculty. And witnesses..." As she spoke, she walked forword, intent on Jenny's neck.

The raven~haired librarian finally found the little switches in her brain that controlled voluntary muscles, and shot up from her seat.

"Bad blood," she said quickly. "I'm S~C anemic. You don't want me."

Buffy stopped, surprised. "How did you know--?" Her roving gaze took in the books on the table. With a smirk, she strode over and picked one up. She lifted with one hand a volume it had taken Faith and Jenny together to budge. Let's hear it for vampire strength.

"'A History of Master Vampires of the Eastern Hemisphere,'" she read. She looked up and raised an eyebrow at Jenny. She set the book down and hopped up on the table, swinging her booted feet. "So you'll be the Watcher, then. I guess that means I can't kill you."

As terrified as she was, Jenny couldn't help but marvel at the logic.

"Why not?"

"Well," Buffy leaned back, turning her head to the ceiling, and then back up. "For one thing, while I seriously doubt you have Sickle~Cell anemia, you're right. I don't want you. I want your little puppy." She smiled. "Tasty treat. And second, you'll most likely have the information I need."

Jenny realized something. "Day. It's day. How did you get here in the day?"

Buffy sent her a bland look. "Basement access is a marvel, isn't it though?"

"Ah." Jenny slowly shifted slightly away, backing up, towards the door.

"Especially in this town," Buffy continued. "It's like it was _designed_ for creatures of the night."

"I, uh, hear it was, actually," Jenny managed to reply, all the while her head screaming _Faster faster! Get us out of here! Run! Run!_

Buffy nodded. "Huh. What can you tell me about the Orb of Weelo?" She started picking at her unpolished nails. There was dried brown under some of the nails. The possible explanations for that momentarily distracted Jenny from the question.

She blinked. "Did you say Orb of Weelo?"

"Uh huh."

"But that's--"

"I know. A legend. Humor me. Theoretically, _if_ I had found one, and _if_ I had all the ingredients in hand, how soon could I do it, for it to work right?"

Jenny Calendar was still vaguely aware of the fact that this was a blood~sucking killer here with her. But mostly she was caught up in the possibility of research.

"You realize what it does?"

Buffy shot her a withering look. "_No_, I thought I'd just turn the thing on and wait to see what happens."

"But why would you--"

"You really wouldn't like knowing, once I told you."

Cordelia examined her nail. Sighed. Set back to filing. Stopped. Checked again. Smoothed away a nearly non~existent rough.

She looked over at Xander. In life, or what had passed for life before she'd been turned, he had been her Watcher. She hadn't really thought about it much, in 70 years, but she supposed he probably wasn't officially a Watcher anymore, just like she wasn't a Slayer. Dying changes a lot of things.

But one thing is true.

Your fingernails keep growing when you're dead.

"Xander, what do you think? Curved or squared~off tips?"

It was like casting a question into the void. He made no indication of having even heard her. That hadn't changed, at least. He still ignored her, just like he had before Elizabeth the Black had gotten the best of both of them. It was just that the short interludes of meaningful conversation were gone now, leaving him always engaged in one long pause. She looked up at him briefly, stopping to admire his black~clad form slumped in the chair, and went back to work on her nails.

"Ah, here it is... Hmm. Looks like the lunar alignment's a pretty key factor... You'll have to wait until the new moon. Oh, but wait. There's a chart of prime sequences in here..."

Buffy looked up at the Watcher, rather amused. They had spent the last hour researching rituals tied to the Orb of Weelo. 

She could have laughed out loud. 

This was exactly what made them so frikkin' easy to kill. The way they were able to wrap their minds around researching dark ceremonies for the undead.

Their trust.

She decided to experiment, and got up, stalking to the other side of the table and leaning in to see the book, bringing her mouth into range of Jenny Calendar's exposed throat.

Wrapped in the wild throes of research, the Watcher didn't even notice.

She could kill her right now.

But the fangs didn't extend. Buffy pressed her lips together, and leaned back. Of course, it was only because she still needed information. It wasn't because this woman was the first person she'd had a real conversation with in several years.

She was _not_ going soft.

She was just waiting for the Slayer.

She went back to her seat, and sat quietly while Jenny Calendar unravelled the mysteries of the molding text.

Spike and his father had a 'nice long chat.'

This involved Giles grilling Spike about 'Elizabeth', while Spike made up answers to hide the truth, which, amazingly, would probably only make things worse.

"So you've been deliberately hiding your relationship for --how long did she say? Six weeks?"

"...yeah?"

"Six weeks, behind my back."

"..yeah."

"I suppose it is unnecessary to tell you how disappointed I am in you."

"..."

Rupert looked about to tell him, unnecessary or not, but seeing his son's contrite expression, he moved on.

"Does she go to your school?"

"Er, no. She goes at ...Fairview."

"Have you met her parents?"

"No."

"Have you two..." The Brit gestured vaguely. Spike's brows knitted in confusion, until he caught Rupert's meaning.

"God, no!"

His father seemed relieved. "Well, that's a blessing, I suppose. But that didn't stop you from sneaking out without my knowledge, when under strict orders to remain in your room."

"Sorry, Da."

Rupert pulled off his glasses and ran a hand over his face. He looked ...weary.

"I've really tried to be a good parent, you know. All the bloody 'help' books are contradictory, and I've been trying to wing it, and I fear I may have erred somewhere, rather drastically. That I'm to blame."

Spike looked up from his lap. ".You?" 

He ran a hand through his greying hair. "I just don't know. This - the fighting, the skipping, the dropping grades, the disobedience-- all started around of the divorce. You never behaved this way when your mother was around. What else could it be, but me?"

That wasn't how this was supposed to go. Spike stood. "Well, maybe it's me. Did you think of that, Da? Maybe I'm just screwed up."

Rupert regarded his son. "No. You're perfect. You've always been perfect. You just need direction that I can't give."

Spike's forehead creased.

Rupert took a deep breath.

"I think we should consider boarding school."

Hey, guys, what about pairings? Well, S/B, obviously, and it's already sort of X/C. But what about everyone else? Should Oz pop up somewhere? Who should get Angel? Riley's nonexistent, by the way. I've only actually seen one episode with Riley... I got into Buffy in the sixth season, then worked my way up from one through three. (Waiting for the DVDs!) I could always stick Darla in there somewhere, though.

Let me know what you think. I'm kind of writing blind. I have no plan. I am aimlessly wandering... Any direction is a good one. Well, most any direction. I'm not entirely into that suggestion about Buffy "making Spike her mate," but that's just me. Maybe it's the wording that sounds odd. Very "Animal Planet." ...I'm thinking something not so overtly ick, just yet. And I'd really rather that Buffy _hadn't_ killed lots of people with soul intact. Keep with the suggestions, though, everybody. I think I'll use the cocoa idea, and I really need more. 

~Star Mouse 


	5. Oh look: exposition

Hola. Greetings again. I want to take this opportunity to tell each and every one of you to recycle. Because that's mondo good.

~Star Mouse

"Boarding school?" Spike repeated, disbelieving. "You can't be serious!"

Giles rubbed his forehead. "I really think we should look into it."

Spike just stared. This was--no. This couldn't be-- Eagh...! Gotta get out--- 

He stuttered up from his chair.

"I'm going to the library," he managed, making a break for the door.

Rupert blinked at the apparently random declaration, and glanced at his watch. 

"You have an hour and a half before you're due." His forhead wrinkled slightly.

Spike cast around for a lie. He had to get out--

"I, ah, got a project. Jenny said she'd help," he lied quickly.

Anything. He would really do homework if he had to. _Leave? Not bloody likely._ He just had to get out of here.

His father pushed himself off the counter and picked his keys off the wall. 

"I'll accompany you. We can discuss this on the way."

He walked past Spike on his way out. 

Spike hung his head.

Jenny scanned the page. It was in a long dead version of German, before they'd gotten it right. But she was pretty sure there was something relevant buried there.

Buffy read her own book, across the table. That one was in Latin.

Jenny shouted, rather loudly. Buffy's head shot up. 

The brunette librarianess ran a finger down the line. She nodded slowly as she reread. 

"Yeah, this is definitely it... Come see."

Buffy stood and stalked over. 

The effect was kind of wasted without the duster. She'd abandoned the heavy leather coat earlier, and it was slung across a chair back. 

She leaned in over Jenny's shoulder, to read, and got a good view of the door as it burst open, spewing Spike.

_"Get the hell away from her, you bitch!"  
_  
She barely had time to register the red, white, and black blur before she had been body~slammed into the bookshelf behind her.

"What the--!" Jenny jumped back. "Spike?"

The Slayer grunted as Elizabeth squirmed against the shelving, seeking escape. He braced his body against her and held out a hand to his Watcher.

"Stake, Jenny, and be bleedin' quick about it; my Da's comin'."

Jenny shook her hands. "Don't stake her! I just found the text!"

Spike was just able to see the beautific smile Buffy flashed him before there was a British curse from behind.

"Spike, what's the meaning of this?"

The blonde Slayer shot around to face his disgruntled father, keeping a tight grip on Buffy's wrist behind him. It made him queasy to turn his back on a vampire, but-- this was his da!

Rupert Giles had one hand on hip, still advancing.

"--You take off like a juggernaught down the hall, slam the door in my face, and now you're meeting your girlfriend when you tell me you're studying?"

"I--. Ah--" Spike panicked. What was _with_ this week?

"He didn't know I'd be here, Mr. Giles," came a soft voice from behind. 

Spike half~turned, incredulous at how contrite Elizabeth the Black appeared to be.

The Vampiress continued, her tone quite at odds with the savage way she jerked her wrist out of Spike's grasp. 

She brought her hands in front of her, clasping her fingers together, picking at her nails like she was nervous.

"After you-- found out. Spike, he *sniff, abbreviated hair flip* ....broke up with me." 

She abandoned her pose to cross her arms in front of her, for all the world looking alone and heart~broken. Spike's look of suspicion gradually turned to bemused shock.

"He said he felt bad, about going behind your back like that. I came here to see if maybe we could work it out." She trailed off, eyes at the floor.

There were stares from Watcher, Slayer, and Da.

Before Spike could figure out if he really wanted to refute such a good cover~story, his father spoke.

"I apologize. I didn't realize--. Well," He removed his glasses, and started polishing them. 

"I don't agree with you're secrecy, but now that that's gone--." He seemed distinctly uncomfortable. "I never said you couldn't ...go out."

Spike blinked. What on earth..?

Giles looked squarely at his son. "Is this why you were being so resistant to boarding school? I don't mean to be a tyrant, Spike. I just want what's best for you..."

As Giles continued with the standard 'I'll try to lighten up and meet you in the middle' speech, Jenny mouthed 'boarding school?'

Spike gave an imperceptible, 'don't ask' shake of his head, watching Elizabeth the Black out of the corner of his eye.

Buffy smiled at him. "Well," she said quietly, under Giles' speech, "looks like we've got paternal permission. Wanna kiss?"

"Well, I--" Spike stopped, narrowed his eyes, leaned away. "What the hell--?"

Buffy smiled wider. "Kidding. I can smell you're garlic breath from here. That's no fun."

Spike swore under his breath. Jenny concentrated on Giles' monologue, apparently waiting for the punchline, so she could laugh.

"...so I will try to stop meddling so much in your affairs, so long as you're honest, and let me in on what you're doing."

She sighed. _Finally._ And nudged Spike.

The blonde jerked. "Huh? What? Oh. Righ, da. Thanks. And boarding school...?"

"Can wait. If you think we can work things out here, then I'd like to help you try."

"He will. I'll help," Jenny replied, before Spike could say something stupid.

Buffy gave the room a 'my work here is done' nod, and flounced back over to the table. She grabbed up the last book Jenny had been reading.

"Ms. Calendar? Thanks for the book." She sent Rupert a grateful smile fitting of a reinstated girlfriend, and exited.

Spike stared after her. He got another prompting nudge from Jenny.

She held out the black duster.

He grabbed it. 

"Oh, look. She forgot this. Thing. Coat she wears. I'll just, yeah, go, uh, give it back to her." He ran out of the library, leather flapping.

Giles turned back to Jenny, and sent her a knowing smile. Which was really ironic, when you think about it. He sighed, just like a parent.

"Hormones!"

Spike burst back out of the library doors, checked both sides of the hallway, and ran down the left.

"Elizabeth!"

The retreating vampire stopped, turned. "Spike, darling!"

He had been right-- without the coat; way better. Leather became her. _Bad Spike!_

He slowed and approached at a walk. "What were you doing in there?"

She gripped the book one~handed, putting the other to her hip. _Leather~clad, slim--Bad Spike!_

"Saving your sorry ass. You're welcome, by the way. You're lucky you're not grounded 'til Judgement Day."

Spike shook his head. Mainly to clear it, but also to illustrate the point. 

"Yeah, sure, but _why?"_

The vampire shrugged. 

"Your Watcher helped me. I may need her help again." Buffy shifted, bringing her weight to both feet. "If I got her Slayer sent away, that probably wouldn't happen."

Spike's brows knit. "And when you don't need her anymore? You, what, kill her? Me? My friends? Set up shop and kill us all?"

Elizabeth tossed her hair. "No. I'm in town for one reason. When I'm done, I'll leave. In the meantime, you don't need to worry about your precious Librarian, or your friends."

"Just everyone else."

"Yeah, well." She shrugged again.

Spike flung an arm out in front of him. "No! I won't bloody well wait for you to go on a killing spree. You die."

He took a step forward. She held out a hand.

"No. You can't kill me. I know too much. My childer are expecting me, and if they find out what happened to me, they _will_ go on a killing spree you wouldn't believe." She straightened, and her voice took on a less frantic tone when she realized he wasn't actually reaching for a stake. 

"Plus, you need me."

"For what? Bamboozling my da? Screwing my life right over?"

"Saving the world."

With that, she backed into the doorway set in the wall, labelled 'basement access' and disappeared.

"'I know too much, my kids would kill you, and I have to save the world now?'"

"Basically."

Angel did a quick eyebrow shrug as he processed the information. 

"That's a new one."

"And pretty creative, as pleas for life go," Faith added.

Willow sighed. "And she didn't even _notice_ she'd forgotten this gorgeous coat?"

Spike looked around behind him, where Willow was wearing the duster, waving her arms to examine the fit.

"Oi! Get that thing off! You've no idea where it's been. 'S probably got blood all on it."

Willow rolled her eyes. "Leather doesn't stay this nice if you don't clean it, idiot. You wear leather all the time. Surely you clean it occasionally."

Spike sunk back into his chair.

Angel looked back up at Willow. "All the same, modelling the fiend's clothing might not be the most constructive thing you could be doing."

Willow dropped her arms and wandered over to the library table.

"So what do you want me to do? It's not like you can send me back to 3rd period. You're in my class. And it's not like _you're_ doing anything constructive."

Faith perked up. "We are." She gestured to the books piled on the table top in front of them. "We're getting down with the researching."

Willow tried to read one of the books upside down. "Researching what?"

"Elizabeth the Black and Friends."

"-And Friends?"

"Yeah." Angel twisted the book to read better. "According to these, she didn't do all her Scourging alone. There were... Three others. All Masters."

Spike blinked. "Huh? Why haven't we heard about this before?"

Angel gestured with his hands. "You know that thing, where you run out of shelving, so you push the books back and build another layer in front...?"

Spike sighed.

Angel shrugged. "Anyway, there were three others. They split up around 1930; looks like one of 'em got a Yoko."

Willow leaned in. "Woah! He's _hot!"_

Faith nearly tipped her chair in her rush for the book. She stared at the photo and whistled softly. 

"Way hot," she agreed.

Spike looked back and forth. "We _are_ talking about blood~sucking murderers here, right?"

There was a second of silence.

Both girls leaned slightly away from the book.

Angel peered at the crusty monochrome photo that had engaged their attention.

"Yeah, that's one of 'um. Here'r the other two." He flipped the page out, revealing a further three photos within the fold~out.

All four teenagers leaned in to look.

One was obviously Elizabeth. The other three--

Angel pointed.

"'Anya von Knacht, Wesley Wyndom~Price, and, uh, just, 'Dawn.'"

Hope everyone like the "New Scourges." It took a while, but no one mentioned Wesley, and I kinda giggle when I think about him decked out Gothish, 'cause he really could be way hot if he lost the wet hair thing and got a leather coat or something and stopped acting like a woman. Those three were the least vampirish ones I could think of. The characters _least_ in touch with their inner darkness. Well, Anya, yeah, but she's just so _perky_...  
  
Tell me what you think. So I know. If there are other characters you want me to mess with, tell me. Cause I won't think of it on my own, and it will be your fault the fic sucks.

You'll be relieved to hear that this is no longer an aimless, rambling fic. It has purpose, drive, and conviction.  
I know exactly what I'm doing, and I'm not stopping now. Updates going slow, obviously, but I'm still grinding them out. I updated "Irony Becomes Her," so you can check that out, if you haven't. It's very good. Ha! 

Sorry.

~Star Mouse. 


	6. Visitors! How nice

Greetings, all. Hope you have fun playing in the new chapter, jumping around in it, sending little squishy pieces flying, grabbing chunks and watching it squirt between your fingers, letting it squish between your toes...

...*Notices silence but for lone chirping cricket*...

Never mind. 

Sorry.  
  
~Star Mouse

_Flashback to the previous evening....  
_

Buffy returned to the 'Lair', feeling slightly giddy and curiously light. Her tanned childe greeted her shortly.

"Well?"

Buffy stopped. Racked her brain for some sort of lead~in she may have missed. 

"Well?" she repeated back.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Did you get it?"

"Get what?" Buffy furrowed her brow, searching short~term memory banks.

"Slayer blood. Duh."

_Oh_. "Oh. I... forgot. ... I got this though." She held up the book.

Cordelia raised an eyebrow at it. Dust and leather was flecking off at the corners and sides. It smelled vaguely like a dead animal had been turned into a cover for mouldy paper.

"Yum?" she said.

Buffy sighed. She had _totally_ forgotten about the 'killing Spike' thing, in all the excitement of research, and then the excitement of nearly getting killed herself, and then the fibbing, and the talking, and oh shit.

I promised not to hurt them.

She squinted her eyes shut at her own stupidity.

Then her brow furrowed, and she looked up, and around.

"Where's Xander?"

Cordelia shrugged. "Taking our visitor hunting. And where's your coat?" The tone was slightly accusatory.

"My--" Buffy patted her shirt, suddenly realizing just _why_ she felt so light. "Oh, crap!"

Cordelia turned, rolling her eyes again.

"I can't believe this. What kind of Sire _are_ you? It's a wonder I've lasted this long, with _you_ as my mentor. It would have been so much better with West, or even that crazy bitch Anyanka--"

"Hey!" Buffy suddenly vamped, running up behind her sauntering childe and spinning her 'round.

"Don't say that. You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah, right."

"No, I'm serious. I _was_ West's childe. It thoroughly sucked and it lasted over a _century_. You don't have to drink from dead leftovers here. You don't have to take the room with _eastern exposure. And you sure as hell don't have to stay."_ The last was whispered, deadly soft.

Cordelia's retort died on her cold lips.

Buffy forced eye contact, and held it, gold on brown, until Cordelia took a submissive --or sulky-- step back.

Then her brain caught up with her ears.

"Visitor?"

As if cued by some off~screen lackey with a walkie talkie and stage clearance, the door slammed open.

Buffy whirled.

A tall man in black and white, trenchcoat billowing around him, stood framed in the doorway. His spikish dark hair hung around his chin and slightly over one eye, brushing the yellow lenses of his Bono glasses.

He put a hand to his mouth, sucking on the cancer~stick hanging from the first two fingers. When he spoke, in his clipped British accent, the smoke blew out, and hung, frozen, in little spirals around his head.

"Hello, Elizabeth."

Buffy swore her heart jumped to life for a beat. _Oh, God. I thought I had more time._

"West," she managed. "Where's Xander?"

West stood aside, turning slightly to reveal the brunette standing behind him, in black slacks and beater.

"Alexander and I have been bonding. Quite the mates, now. Isn't that right, Harris?"

The former Watcher shot the Master vamp a look and quickly, but respectfully, edged around him through the doorway, to stand by Cordelia.

Buffy glanced at him, but mostly kept her eyes riveted on her own Sire.

"West," she repeated. _Oh God. If he found out-- No. He can't have. He's here to do his own thing. Oh, God, what if he finds out--?_

Finds out I found out...

"Where's Anyanka?" she asked, mainly to alleviate the silence before she imploded.

"Oh, you know," West said, waving his smoking hand vaguely. "She went off hunting alone. She'll be back by sunrise."

"Oh. Good. So...good, that you dropped in like this. Without any warning. You should do it more often."

A sardonic smile hinted around West's mouth, but he hid it by taking another drag on the evil, smoke~spewing little cylinder.

"But Elizabeth, dear. You haven't asked after Dawn."

Buffy's eyebrows shot up. "D-dawn? But, last I heard, she was --out. Left the little family for that guy--

"Yes, well. We have, ah, made amends, you'll be happy to hear. She and her 'friend' are back with daddy. The original Scourges, together again.

All that's missing is you, Elizabeth."

"I--"

Buffy's lame excuse was stillborn, interrupted by female laughter.

A black~haired vampiress, dressed entirely in red, wandered up to the door. Her lips were blood~red; there was no telling whether that was a 'natural' effect or lip gloss assisted. But there was absolutely _no_ excuse for that much eyeliner.

"Dawn!" 

The vamp turned to look at Buffy, and smiled wide.

"Liz!" She rushed forward to hug her friend of sixty years.

"Mm! I _love_ your hair! Where have you been? Why didn't you go feeding with us?"

Buffy shot a look at Cordelia over Dawn's shoulder. So she really _was _smarter than she let on. She wondered if her Childe knew how completely she'd saved Buffy's ass with her feigned ignorance.

"I didn't know you were here," she replied, honestly. "If I had, I would have been sure to give you the guided tour." She released the other vampire and took a step back, for perspective.

"There's this great place, The Bronze. It's the perfect feeding ground. More secluded alleys than you can _count_."

"Oh, thanks, but we managed. Do you remember Oz? He's here, too. It's like a reunion, or something. And now that you're here, it's perfect!"

Her exclamation points were really at odds with her get~up, but people who knew Dawn had learned to distinguish between cheer and Goth Giddy.

Buffy just smiled thinly. It was all she could think of to do.

And now she was desperately trying to entertain four extra vampires in her humble home, while also trying not to give anything away. She wasn't sure how much they knew, and she had to play as dumb as possible.

_Hellmouth. Hellmouth. I was drawn here by the Hellmouth._

And the Slayer. I wanted to bag another Slayer.

That's it. That's all. Nothing more. Aimless wanderer, that's me.

Oh God! Where the hell did I put that book?!

Buffy looked up frantically. Most of the others were snoozing, with the exception of Oz. But that was okay. He was ...she listened... playing _Stairway to Heaven_ in the distance.

She looked around. If West found that book... Words could not _describe _the depth of the shit she would be in. 

She hadn't taken it past the entrance. She searched the floor, the sparse furniture, the sarcophagi, all the while checking over her shoulder every few steps.

Nothing.

She checked behind her again, and jumped back from the brunette standing there.

"Buffy."

She willed herself to stop breathing.

"Xander. You-- don't do that."

"Sorry." He shrugged. "Looking for something?"

"Uh, yeah. Big book. Really ...interesting read. Good book. Have you seen it?"

"You mean the one with the--" He trailed off, and looked behind him, in the direction of the slumbering guests. "Yeah. I've got it."

_Relief. Utter relief. _Her childer were much more helpful than they let on.

"Is it... Safe?"

Xander nodded. "Do you want it?"

"No," Buffy said, weak from complete, utter relief that West hadn't seen that book. "I don't need it until the solstice. Can you keep it hidden until then?"

Xander nodded.

"Good. Thanks, Xan."

"Not a problem. The 'guests'..."

"I'm not sure how long they'll stay. Be careful what you say. And tell Cordelia--"

"I will. Those ones are far too twisted. Hunting last night, the West one stalked a human for nearly two hours. I know about him, of course, from you and the Watcher diaries, but... He goes in for mind games, doesn't he?"

Buffy swallowed, remembering. Her boyfriend drained, his hair cut and swept into a circle, framing his head like a halo in midieval art. Her house burned. A dark~haired man standing in the smoke, offering to end her pain.

"...Yeah."

"Spike?"

The Slayer looked up from the book of vampires. His Watcher continued into the greater library, cradling a coffee cup.

"Didn't your dad say something about dinner?"

Spike's brow furrowed at the seemingly random statement.

"With you?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. With Elizabeth the Black. Didn't he invite her for dinner sometime, last night?"

Spike's eyes widened in fear. "Bloody-- did he? I wasn't paying attention. Oh, for the love of-- I can't do that!"

Willow put her hands in the pockets of the duster. "Have dinner with your dad and girlfriend?"

"_Not_ his girlfriend," Faith corrected. "Elizabeth the Black equals evil dead thing."

There was a pause. "Oh, right."

Angel sighed.

Jenny Calendar took a sip of coffee and addressed Spike. "This dinner could be the only way to keep contact with Elizabeth the Black. If you have the opportunity, you must follow through with it."

Spike rolled his eyes ceiling~ward. "But I don't _wanna! _She's a soddin' loony tune!_"_

"Spike!" Jenny's face turned serious, and she set the _Kiss the Librarian_ mug down to fold her arms.

"You have a duty. You are the single chosen one in all the world, whose sacred creed is to slay the vampires and drive back the forces of darkness. And if that entails sitting through dinner with one of them, then so be it. We still need to find out what the hell she's talking about," she added, under her breath.

Sure enough, when Spike got home, Rupert Giles broached the subject of an 'official' introduction to 'that nice girl, Elizabeth', say, over dinner on Thursday?

"Uh, Da, I'd really rather not..."

Rupert looked a bit offended, looking up over his reading glasses. "Don't be silly. If you're going to continue dating the girl, then I want to at least have had the opportunity to ruthlessly grille her regarding her family situation and show her the video of your birth."

Off Spike's shocked expression, the older man sighed. "I was _joking_, Spike. I swear, it's _just_ a dinner. But a necessary one. For pete's sake, it's customary. She's to bring her guardians, also, if she wishes."

He went back to the paper, as if the case was closed, leaving Spike standing in the doorway to the den, trying to form an excuse.

Nothing was coming to mind.

He opened his mouth anyway, ready to fake his way through it. Without even turning his head, Rupert said firmly, "The phone's on the table. Invite her now."

"Aw, _Da!"_

This time his father did look up, over the tops of his reading glasses, and regarded his son with a cool eye.

"Now, Spike."

The Slayer knew that look. And hell if _he_ was gon'to fight it. With a melodramatic teenage sigh, he stalked into the room and grabbed up the cordless wall phone that was lying on the table. He started to head off into the kitchen with it--

"Here's fine."

Another sigh. Now what? He didn't know the vampire's number. Bloodsucker probably didn't even have a phone. But if he was dating her, he'd bloody well know it, so he punched in Angel's.

After two rings: "Hello?"

"Hi, uh, Elizabeth, how are you?" He half-turned away from his dad, rolling his eyes at the fireplace.

"Uh, Spike? That's you, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, 'bout the same. How'd, uh, how'd that test go, in _Theatre_?"

"Dude, what are you talking about? I don't take drama."

"Oh, well that's good. Uh, listen, _Liz_, my da's wanting you over for dinner on Thursday. Think you can make it?"

Angel finally caught on. "_Oh_, your dad's right there, isn't he?"

"_Yeah, jolly good (bleedin' idiot)."_

Behind him, Rupert said, "Ah, splendid!" and got up. Spike whirled, in time to watch him disappear into the kitchen.

"No! I-- Aw, _crap_, Angel!"

"What? Spike, what's going on?"

The Slayer slumped. "My dad just went to start the roast."

Hope you liked it. I'm sure I'll be getting some entertaining hate mail from W/Ozzers. I don't think there's even such a thing as a D/Ozzer.

Should Oz be a werewolf or a vampire? I haven't yet specified. Maybe both. Is that even a thing? That would be _really _weird. And I haven't touched on weirdness in this story. *Rolls eyes at self*.

I'm still working on exactly how to characterize Anyanka the Drusilla~like character. She's not gonna be a nutball, but she needs that edge of darkness, and I'm not yet sure how to convey that yet. I'll have it figured out by Chapter seven, though. Never you worry.

If you haven't made suggestions, you have no right to complain.

Check out my other series fic, "Irony Becomes Her." Chapters 17 18 are posted now, with a 19th coming shortly. Quick! Jump on board before it gets too long to read in one go!

~Star Mouse 


	7. Close Encounters of the dead kind

"Just For," by Nickelback, is what I imagine Angel thinking if he ever finds out about Spike and Buffy. I was gonna write a songfic, but I hate them with a passion, so I'm just telling every one of you to listen to that song with Angel and Spike and B:tVS in mind.

Cool. And also, Check out Ch. 19 on Irony Becomes Her, by me, if you haven't.

~Star Mouse

Spike tossed the duffel bag up onto the library counter, where it clanked. He stalked into the cage room. Flung open the cabinet. Started grabbing stakes and axes and crossbows. Swore intensely under his breath. Grabbed more weapons.

After a few minutes, Jenny Calendar ventured out of her office to investigate the noise. She stood in the doorway, sipping her coffee, and watched the duffel bag fill.

Yes, violence _is_ a good thing, but... She bit her lip.

"Spike?"

The leather~clad blonde yanked the stubborn zipper shut. "Eh?"

The Watcher surveyed the half~empty weapons closet.

"Big plans for patrol?" she hazarded.

"Gotta ask a lady to dinner," he replied.

Spike kicked the door open and stalked off, bulging bag swung over his shoulder.

...

"This is why you don't date!" she called after him.

There was only way to avoid hunting with her darling family, and that was to hunt alone.

Feeling quite the lone wolf, all over again, Buffy wandered through the cemetary. Not that there were usually many people there at night. Except for the occasional Wicca group gone wrong, or muggers.

Those were always fun.

But at the moment, hunting was just an excuse. To check up on her _other_ project.

She was halfway to the site when--

"Elizabeth!"

She cringed, and turned in the direction of the British voice.

"Yes s--oh. You." She managed to exude a good bit of disinterest as the Slayer stepped out of the shadows.

"Me," he confirmed, blandly. "Were you serious?"

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Regarding...?"

"You won't hurt them?"

...

She sighed.

"I promised," she said simply. "And I keep my word." 

The teenager nodded. "Okay. That's good, 'cause you see, I think you need my help."

_Don't blink. Don't swallow. Don't breathe, it's not like you need to. Act casual._

"Really, now. And what makes you think that?"

He shrugged. "Seems you wouldn't really worry about upsetting me if you didn't. Probably would have made a few more attempts on my life when you had the chance."

Buffy weighed her options. With her darling family in town, she'd need all the help she could get.

"I need your help," she confirmed quietly.

"Good. 'Cause I need yours, too."

Buffy's head snapped up. "Hey! What kind of back~scratcher do you think I am?" she asked, briefly slipping into an accent long ago evolved into antiquity.

Spike regarded her cooly, reeking of Slayer power.

"Surely someone your age has learned you can't get anything for nothing."

"Surely you realize I've spent most of my existence figuring out that's complete bullshit," she retorted.

"Buffy..."

"You know, I never said you could call me that, _Spike_."

The slayer threw his leather~clad arms skyward in frustration. How could a being over 130 years old _possibly_ be so juvenile?

"Dinner at my place, this Thursday. Can you make it?"

...

"_What?_"

Spike rolled his eyes. "You remember that lovely yarn you spun for me da, don't you? He would enjoy meeting 'Elizabeth' _properly_."

She laughed out loud, throwing her head back and cackling at the overcast sky.

"Ha! That is _too_ good!" she crowed. "The Slayer's dad wants me for dinner." She straightened and shot Spike a smirk.

"Is it me, or is there something _really_ ironic about that?"

"Yeah yeah, laugh it up, blood~sucker. Are you gonna do it or not?"

Buffy considered saying no, but she _really_ did need his help. To save the world. And it would be a night away from the crypt and the creepy family...

"You'll help me back."

"Count on it. So long as it isn't world~ending or involve the blood of the innocent."

She let a second go silent, then nodded.

Spike returned the gesture.

They stood there, not entirely sure what was supposed to come next, before realizing there should be a lot more bloodshed taking place. As one, they started backing away, before each turned tail and fled the scene.

"...And then, of course, there was all that fuss about entrails, in the late eighteen hundreds. I never really jumped on that particular bandwagon, though. Too messy. Silk does _not_ appreciate that kind of treatment, let me tell you..."

Cordelia desperately tried not to roll her eyes. The vampiress seated cattycorner to her had been discussing disembowelment and torture for a good hour. Oh, crap, she was winding up again.

"Anyanka," she cut in quickly, "I know Xander would just _love _to hear all this....stuff, and I'd hate for you to have to repeat yourself." She stood hastily, nearly losing balance on her tall heels.

"What say I go get him for you. No, no, you just stay there," she trotted out of earshot, "...you sick loony."

She found Xander sitting in their room, staring at the wall.

"Hey, Cupcake. Enjoying the view, much?"

Xander didn't turn, but he waved her over with a hand. She walked over, putting her hand in his and letting him wrap her arm across his shoulder. She brought her other arm around and hugged his stomach, kissed his neck.

"We're in some deep shit," he remarked, tilting his head to give her better access.

"Don't I know it," Cordelia spoke into his neck.

"If one of the old ones tries to take you, I want you to run."

Cordelia stopped. "Take me? Buffy would kick their bony asses back across the ocean if they tried something like that."

Xander shook his head, still focused on the wall. "No. She's terrified of them. Can't you tell? Their stronger than her. There's no way she could beat them if they turned on us."

The former Slayer unbent, dropping her arms back to her sides.

"But she'll have help, right? We'll help. And, she didn't get Slayer blood, but she was talking like he might be willing to help--"

"He will. He's too curious not to. But it might not be enough. It's not like they don't have a Slayer of their own."

"But we'd have two," Cordelia replied quietly.

Xander's brown eyes blinked shut, then he unfolded himself like a bobcat or some similar such feline, and faced Cordelia.

"Hunt with me?"

Completely abandoning any thoughts to rejoin Anyanka, she nodded.

Spike stalked his way through the cemetary, pissed off and not totally sure why. He wasn't really the most alert he'd ever been, and later that turned out to be a good excuse for why the vamp was able to jump him before he sensed it.

"Ouf!" the thing literally jumped up his back, getting a choke hold around his neck.

He flailed/lurched forward, managing to roll without his eyes bugging out of his head, and catapaulted the small vampire into a headstone.

She jumped up almost immediately, tossed black hair and smirked red lips.

"Ooh. Kung fu guy. That'll be fun. Well guess what?" She dove at his stomach, catching fingertips painfully under a rib. "I know kung fu too."

"Jolly. Good. For you." Spike kneed her stomach and threw her off him, yanking a stake out of his belt. "Hope you passed on all the dark secrets to your padawan, cause now's too late."

The vampire seemed surprised that someone in this backward town had the forethought to carry a stake.

"I'm surprised that someone in this backward town has the forethought to carry a stake," she said.

"Yeah, well, it's hard to live long on the hellmouth without one."

Dawn raised an eyebrow. "Are you a demon~hunter?"

"Sorta."

"Cool. Those are almost as fun to kill as Slayers. Well, I've never actually seen a Slayer, well, not recently, but according to Liz, Slayers are cool to kill, and demon hunters make it interesting, even if they don't have the strength of Slayers, they're still cool, and since Liz said I shouldn't challenge a Slayer until I'm sure I could beat her, or him, I guess a demon~hunter will do. I mean, they've got the fighting skills without the super~strength, so it's probably really good practice, and since I'm not sure I could take a Slayer yet, this is definitely gonna be great. Ready?"

Spike blinked. She sounded like Faith's little sister.

Still watching the vampire standing in ready position, he edged over to a headstone and kicked it.

Dawn watched the dust settle over the three pieces of marble.

"Oh, shit."

She locked eyes with Spike, expressionless and silent, and then started backing away.

"Ya know, I think I'm gonna go now. Have fun slaying stuff, 'kay?"

Then she scampered.

Spike jerked to follow her, but she had too much of a lead already. In the dark he'd never find her again.

But his Spider sense was tingling. He was still holding the stake, and slowly brought it up level with his chest, focusing his inner radars on the source of the 'noise'.

He really didn't need to bother.

"We're right here, Slayer. You don't have to stake us. We're with Buffy."

The peroxide blonde turned slowly. Two brunettes, one male, one female, one tanned, one pale, both quite quite dead.

"What have we here?"

The vampiress spoke again, sauntering forward. "You know what's freakin' annoying? Having a vampire sense when _you're_ a vampire." She brought her hands up to gesture vaguely. "There's this constant buzzing, and finally, you just can't take it anymore and you slam your head against a few coffins." She caught his eye. "And then it stops."

_Vampire sense._ "You're the Slayer defeated and turned by Elizabeth the Black."

She nodded, wide~eyed, tongue between her molars. "_Very_ good, Slayer. Care to hazard a guess at who this is?" She Vannah White'd at her companion.

Spike glanced at the silent vampire standing next to her in black slacks and a beater.

"The Watcher."

He earned a single nod, like an abreviated bow, his shoulders dipped with his head. "Good call."

Spike gave his own nod, which is really a reverse nod, pulling his head back in acknowledgment before dipping slightly forward and then back to normal.

"Right. Pleasure's yours. Anythin' I can do for you, or are you just out on a sight~seeing trip?"

"As if. There's nothing to see here. We're hunting."

"Ah. Then I'll have to kill you."

"Buffy wouldn't like it," Xander replied.

"We're her favorites," Cordelia sing~song'd.

"We've come to warn you."

"We have?" Cordelia turned to Xander, who waved her off. 

"There's some seriously nasty stuff breezed into town, Peroxide. They could beat your ass into dust before you even _reach_ for a stake. We need you later, so try not to get killed, yeah?"

Spike furrowed his brow. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Masters. Three, straight from Europe, and another Junior that could do some serious damage to the unprepared." Xander shrugged. "Prepare."

Spike shook his head. "Why are you telling me this?"

"We'll need your help later. Until then, you have to stay alive. We can't defend you from our own, but we can at least give you the warning you might need to survive." He put a hand on Cordelia's back, gently guiding her off to the left, and nodded acknowledgement. "There's going to be some serious shit going down, Slayer, if you aren't strong enough to stop it."

Spike watched them go, brows knit, fists clenched.

Comments? Complaints? Suggestions? You know what to do.

~Star Mouse 


	8. A loaf of bread, a glass of wine, and th...

Oh look.

I caved.

_Big_ surprise.

I promised I'd stay off FFN until all my extracurricular school projects --of which there were _way_ too many-- got done, and got done good.

Well.

Obviously, it is not February (Oh, so close, though!) and I am about 80% done. 

And look at me. I have posted. Watch my meticulously scheduled time get sucked in through the USB port on my computer, with an amusing _sqwerlick! _sound. All laugh at Star Mouse! Queen of the Type A Procrastinators! Ha! Ha! Ha! She really likes to rant about herself!

Anyway. This is small penance for letting my real life _ever_ get in the way of my fanfiction. Even for a moment.

*Irony Becomes Her will be updated shortly, as well. I've gotten a couple chapters done, except. . . They're not the next ones. So I have to write the other ones first. Sigh. Life is hard.

Sincerely and schizophrenically,

~Star Mouse

  
  
  
&& && &&

  
*Ding dong!*

. . . 

*Ding dong!*

. . . 

*Ding dong-dong-dongdongdongdongdong--Bangbangbang!*

"FOR GOODNESS' SAKE, SPIKE! GET THE DAMN DOOR!"

Spike sighed from the living room couch, and got up to answer the bell, showing all the enthusiasm of a man on his way to the gallows. There was only one person he could think of off the top of his head rude enough to knock that much. Grumbling and furtively adjusting his clothes, he swung the door open for his mortal enemy. He opened his mouth for an acerbic quip----

and just kinda stood there like an idiot.

Elizabeth the Black raised an eyebrow, after a long pause made it clear Spike wouldn't be standing aside any time soon. "We were finally accepted to mime school?" she hazarded, managing not to shift awkwardly on her feet, like the geek in her wanted to.

Spike snapped his mouth shut with an audible clack of teeth, still unable to pull his eyes away. 

"Uh..." he said, intelligently.

"What?"

"You're. . . Pink." His eyes coasted once again across the lines of the absolutely adorable, sinful, sweet, deadly, _pink _dress. Or, more specifically, _ Buffy's _lines in the sinful, sweet, deadly, pink dress. 

Buffy quirked a lip. "I take it we like pink?"

"Uh..." Spike desperately searched for some words other than 'pink, good.' Surely there must be _some_. "...'talo's Finnish for 'house.'"

. . . 

_Damn. Not the best words I could have picked._

Buffy didn't seem to know what to say to that. 

"I'm not sure what to say to that," she said. Spike laughed nervously.

And then they both just kind of stood there a little while longer, not really sure what to do, both too distracted by Spike's discovery of the color pink to notice.

And that was how Rupert found them.

"Good heavens," he said, startling his son to attention. "Have you two been standing in the doorway all this time? Spike, move aside, and let Elizabeth through."

Spike shot to the left so fast he knocked over a coatrack. 

Which fell into a side table. 

Which dislodged a vase. 

Which tipped over a fern.

Buffy and Rupert stared at the mess of potting soil and overcoats for a second, while Spike bit his lip to keep from screaming.

Giles cleared his throat, sending that sweet girl Elizabeth an understanding look as he did so. "Perhaps we should just retire to the dining room."

&& && &&

Spike stared into the pot roast in front of him. Maybe if he concentrated hard enough, it would turn into something lethal. Because, no matter what the stereotypes demanded, his father was a pretty damn good cook, and nothing he made could ever be considered a decent poison. 

If it had been, at least Spike would have a way _out_ of this hell. 

He glanced up.

"...And then, when he was in the third form, he saw that Billy Idol video, 'White Wedding,' and got one of his chums to paint his hair white. But they accidently confused the white paint for the paste..."

Elizabeth burst out laughing, eyes squeezed shut and tearing, as Rupert Giles described the process of shaving off the helmet that had been Spike's hair after the glue dried. Elizabeth laughed even harder.

She'd been doing that a lot this evening.

Especially during the oh so amusing tales of his brief vegan phase in kindergarten, when he'd tried to burn his sneakers because he thought his dad had personally killed a cow to make them.

Oh, how she'd laughed.

Spike stabbed viciously at his roast. Maybe he'd get lucky.

Buffy glanced to her left. The Slayer was attacking his plate. _Bad plate, bad, bad._ He didn't seem to be enjoying himself very much at all. She on the other hand...

It had been a revelation. About fifteen minutes ago, just as the one about the rollerblade rink was winding up. She was actually having a _really_ good time. And doing something that didn't involve death or shoes, too. She wanted the Slayer to share it with her. It _was_ his house, after all. 

She reached over and poked his thigh. His leg jerked, banging into the table, and made the plates dance. Rupert paused in the middle of his story looking puzzledly at the plate in front of him, trying to figure out what had made it jump three inches to the right. _Earthquake?_

Spike shot Buffy a look of death. "_What?" _he hissed.

_"You're having a bad time. Stop it,"_ she whispered back. 

Rupert could, of course hear everything they were saying. There was only about four feet separating them, after all. But he let them sneak, doing that _fade-out_ thing parents learned instinctively around the time their children reached adolescence. The one where they tune out everything except the words 'drugs,' 'exploded,' and 'dad.'  
  
_"I've got an f'ing Slayer killer in my house! Eating a roast! Yukkin' it up with my da!"_

"It's a damn good roast!" Buffy countered, albeit weakly.

_"Why the hell are you eatin' it, anyway? 'S not like you'll even digest it!"_

"Oh really, mister expert on my innards!"

"Little miss expert on my preteen years!"

"Lighten up, asshole!"

"Bite me, bitch!"

"Tempted, smartass!"

"Don't you know any other_ words?"_

"**Wanker**_!"_

"Oh, very nice, I congrat..u..late. . . . ."

At this point, both seemed to remember they weren't actually alone, and turned to Rupert. He smiled at them through a bite of roast.

Slayer and vampire glanced at each other. Acting on some hidden cue, Buffy dropped her gaze to her watch.

"Oh, wow! Look at the time! I have to do my homework and make my bed and talk on the phone and other such teenage things. I should go." She smiled warmly at Spike's father, who rose to shake her hand when she stood to leave. "I had a wonderful time. Thank you for the excellent dinner," she gushed, laying it on thick for the Slayer's benefit. Spike rolled his eyes. Just the look she'd been going for.

"'S quite all right. It was wonderful to have someone other than Spike to cook for! Ah, are you walking home?" Off Buffy's nod, he tutted. "Spike, why don't you see Elizabeth home, make sure she arrives safely?"

Spike hesitated just a tad too long. Buffy kicked his chair. He jumped up. 

"Right! Let's go."

&& && &&

Outside the house, the Slayer breathed a sigh of relief. Buffy didn't breathe at all, of course. But she did look sort of relieved. 

"It's weird how your father can make himself seem invisible, isn't it?" she said.

Spike shrugged. "I dunno. Angel said his mom does the same thing all the time."

Buffy's brow crinkled in thought. "Angel..."

"You know. The one at the Bronze," he replied blandly.

"Oh! _Him_. He's hot."

Spike rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the fact that his superego was screaming _What? I'm not hot? What about me? What am I, chopped liver?! _and his Id was backing it up with little nods and mumbled _You tell 'um, Frank._s.

Apparently Elizabeth the Black was telepathic, because she sent him a condescending smile and patted his sproingy gelled head. "Don't worry," she told him sweetly. "You're hot too." __

_Woah! That is _so_ cool. _She patted his hair again, marvelling at the way it boinced back into place. She watched in wide-eyed awe as one spike popped back up after she pulled it down over his face. "Holy Dippitydo, Batman! How much gel do you _have_ in here?!"

He shook her hand off and acted all manly for a few minutes. He gave it up when he realized she wasn't paying attention to him not paying attention to her.

"Yeah, well," he grumbled. "You held your end of the bargain. So far. Did a great job of letting my da humiliate me and all. I guess it's my turn?"

"Uh huh," Buffy said, still staring longingly at his hair. 

He sighed. She jerked out of whatever dark, forbidden hair~dresser fantasy she'd been entertaining and glared at him in confusion. 

"Huh?"

"My help? You needing it?" he prompted again.

"Oh! Right. Your help. Bear with, I'm trying to phrase." She cast around her for some inspiration. She had to word this carefully, so he didn't take flight. It wasn't like it was_ bad._ Well, kinda. But relatively speaking. . . 

_Ooh, distraction._ "Hang on a sec. I'll be right back."

Spike stopped walking at her word, kicking his feet for a few seconds before he realized she was headed for the wino on the bench ahead.

"Bloody--! No!" He ran and grabbed her arm, yanking her back onto the sidewalk. "What the hell do you think you're doing, you crazy bitch?!"

"What?!" Elizabeth shook his hand off, shaking out of game face. "It was a great pot roast, Slayer, but not exactly _filling_, if you know what I mean. A girl's gotta eat!"

"Not. In. _My_. Fucking. Town." He bit out, staring her down.

_Oh wow. _"Oh, _please! _You've _got_ to be kidding me! What the hell am I supposed to do? Starve?"

"There's a butcher's a few blocks down at this left. You can get some blood there."

She raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Animal?"

"Dead right. You're off _Homosapien_s henceforth."

"No. _Fucking_. Way." she replied, mimicking his earlier tone perfectly.

Spike gulped, but covered well, leaning in so close she couldn't focus on his eyes and had to pull back. 

"You want my help," he said carefully, playing his one and only card, "and you will leave the locals untouched. That is the one and only deal. There will be no bargaining. There will be no cheating. Take or leave, pet."

Buffy blinked. This was _so_ not the teenager that had been so close to banging his head against the dining room table a mere thirty minutes ago. _No way._

She shook her head. "No way. You have no idea what you're asking."

"Don't care."

"Not _hunt?!_"

"Damn straight."

Elizabeth the Black took a moment to consider this bizarre, heretofore unexplored concept. _Nope. Wouldn't work._

"Nope. Wouldn't work. For one thing, I've got several of my darling relatives in town, breathing down my back, and I have to keep up appearances--"

Spike cut her off. "Relatives? You brought a _nest_ into my turf?"

"No! These people--" she stopped, biting her lip.

Spike's eyes narrowed. "'Lizabeth? What?"

The vampiress's eyes darted back and forth, into a few of the darker shadows. "We should get out of here," she said quietly. "If we need to have this conversation, we need to do it somewhere safe, where they can't follow."

Trying not to think about what could inspire such fear in a vampire that didn't even bat an eyelash at a Slayer _(Well, she'd batted an eyelash, but she sure hadn't seemed the least bit nervous about it._), Spike looked around at where their aimless walking had taken them. And sighed. He turned to Elizabeth.

"What you said, about my friends?"

"Safe," she assured. Then rolled her eyes. "Apparently _everybody_ is."

"I'm going to," he cringed, "_trust_ you on that. If you do _anything_..."

The shorter blonde looked up at him gravely. "I swear it. On everything I'd hold holy if I was into that sort of thing."

Spike raised an eyebrow. Buffy rolled her eyes. "What do you want from me? A pledge in the name of Lucifer? I hear he's not really reliable, himself. I said I won't do anything!"

Spike looked at her intensely for a few moments, not that he could get any read on her, then nodded slowly. "We're near a friend's. We'll finish this there."

He started off down the street, the vampiress at his heels. Neither consciously realized that the last argument had featured a distinct lack of death threats, fangs, and wooden sticks.

&& && &&

Okay. I'm back to work now. I've got half of another chapter done, and I'll post that shortly. Now I have to focus on Astronomy, which, really _really_ isn't as fun as it sounds. _Way_ too many numbers. 

In case anyone cares, I went back and rewrote a lot of the first parts. Nothing drastic or plot-twisting, just got rid of some of the aimless plot threads I threw out at first to see if anything would bite. I should probably do the same thing to Irony, but hey! I'm lazy. I think there's still a paragraph in Ch. 2 on that one that implies Birdie's from the future. Oh well. You don't care.

Send me nice reviews to tell me how much you missed me (if, of course, you noticed I was gone), and to remind me to update this thing.

~Star Mouse 


	9. How Napoleon III was thwarted in 1871

Greetings. Enjoy the show.

~Star Mouse__

&& && &&

"What event brought about the downfall of Napoleon in 1871?"

Faith chewed on her pencil. _Didn't he die a couple chapters ago?_

She flipped ahead a few pages, in search of more easily acquired knowledge. 

. . . Victorian Compromise?

. . . Social Dawinism. How social could Galopogan finches be?

She concentrated for a few minutes, then casually pushed her Western Civ. materials over the side of the bed. The teacher wouldn't be collecting it for a few more days, anyway. Algebra now, Risorgemento later.

. . . Y = a(x-h)2 + k. Axis of symmetry lies on line X = 4. Parabola includes point (2, -5). Find equation.

...She lunged for the Civ book.

. . ._ The Franco-Prussian war proved more than he had bargained on, however, and in 1870 Bismark._ . . She looked longingly at the math book...

And was saved from the death spiral by the ringing doorbell.

Faith leapt up in a whirl of brown hair and cloud pajamas, and fled from the textbook~infested room. The stairs shuddered under her running feet. 

As she appoached the door, she picked up voices on the other side.

"I still can't believe _you_ have friends."

"Just shut up and drink your cow blood."

"This is _so_ disgusting. The hemoglobin's all off."

Faith swung the door open on Spike, holding a brown paper bag with "**Barker Bros. Fine Meats since 1904"** on the side. Standing next to him...

"Oh, shit?"

The _other_ leather~clad blonde raised an eyebrow and took a noisy sip from a styrofoam cup.

"I still can't believe the butchers' had straws," Spike was saying.

The woman turned to him. "I know it. What vamp would settle for _this_ crap in a town where midnight strolls through the cemetary is a socially acceptable activity?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Hey, Faith. Can we come in?"

Faith's brow furrowed. "Uh, Spike? Is that..?"

"Yeh. Uh, Faith, meet Elizabeth the Black. 'Lizabeth, this is Faith."

The vampiress swallowed. She smiled sweetly at the brunette, blood on her lips. "Please, call me Buffy." 

Faith, on her part, managed to squeeze a quick answering smile in between her look of shock and her look of confusion. She prided herself on not being the Alice in Wonderland kinda girl, going around saying "Heavens, me, how strange!." When she'd found out last year that the incredibly hot transfer student was a vampire hunter, she'd signed on for the war right then and there. She'd been doing her part to rid the world of evil and annoy Ms. Calender ever since. She'd learned to go with the flow on this kind of thing.

But she also wasn't a total idiot. She didn't budge.

Spike sighed. "Can you just invite us in, please? Buffy's promised~"

"Hey! I didn't say _you_ could call me that. Stick to Elizabeth, Gel Boy."

"Shut up, vampire," he said, not turning away from Faith. "_Buffy_ has promised not to feed on you."

Buffy raised the cup. "On anyone. Hence the not~so~savory beverage. May the bloodbank find itself with picked locks and lighter pockets in the near future. Human is _so_ much better than cow." She tipped her cup to the toast, and took a swig.

"Uh, good?" Faith said, opening the door a bit wider, but still blocking the threshold with her body. Maybe she wasn't so bad... A misunderstood anti~hero--

Buffy smiled, flashing a bit of fang. "Not for you," she replied.

--Or not. Faith bounced back on her heels. "Spike!"

The Slayer waved the hand that wasn't holding the paper bag. "Don't mind her. We've spent the last half hour going over and over this. _Something_'s scaring her enough to ask for our help. If she's lying," he shrugged, "we can always stake her." 

Buffy made a face around her straw. "Hey!"

Faith bit her lip. She matched Buffy's gaze for a moment. She seemed to come to a decision. 

She ran back up the stairs.

Spike blinked. Buffy looked at him.

"Okay, that didn't work. Is she your only friend, or should we move on?"

Spike opened his mouth to retort, but was stopped by Faith's return. She'd picked up a crucifix and a bottle of holy water. She sent the vampire a death glare.

"Come in, Buffy."

Buffy breezed through the door in a clap of leather. "Don't mind if I do. _What_ a nice house!" she gushed, looking around in theatrical awe. She cocked her head at a cross~stitched "Home Sweet Home" framed on the wall. She nodded. 

"Very chic." She looked over at Faith. "Kitchen this way?" She disappeared in the direction she'd pointed without waiting for a response.

Faith stared after her. Her blank look was starting to worry Spike. He stepped across the threshold and clapped her on the back.

"Y'ok, pet?"

She nodded. "Five by five. Is there a vampire in my house?"

Spike patted her back again. "Yup. C'mon." He headed in the direction Buffy had taken. 

Faith closed the door.

_There's a vampire in my house. In my house, there is a vampire. Spike has brought me a pet vampire. . . . There's a vampire in my house, therefore I cannot possibly do my homework._

Faith let out a low giggle, tossed her hair, and followed the Slayer into the kitchen.

Spike was setting the contents of the bag on the counter, while buffy searched the cabinets.

"Glasses are over the sink," Faith offered.

The short blonde shot her a smile and reached over to the appropriate cupboard. Faith watched Spike for a second.

"Blood?"

"Blood." He pulled out another 20oz styrofoam cup. That made nine. Even Faith could do that math.

She rounded the counter.

"Spike? That's some wicked refreshment to be packin' for a pit stop." She glanced over at the vampire now staring speculatively at the microwave. Faith realized belatedly that it would have been better to direct her houseguest to the cheap plastic coffee mugs, rather than the nicer glasses. _Wonder if blood stains. _She put her cheek close to Spike's and lowered her voice slightly. "Exactly how long are you staying?"

The Slayer had the grace to look sheepish. But he quickly replaced it with reasonable...ness. He whispered back.

"Luv, if she goes back to her place, bad .stuff'll happen. 'S kill or be killed, sort of thing. Off the juice... Not such a grand idea from another predator's point a view. An' somethin's got 'er spooked. She needs a place to stay that needs an invite."

"So she can stay at your house!"

"Are you bleedin' crazy, woman?! My da'll think we're havin' a bonk fest!"

An unladylike snort sounded behind them, from the blonde that had been listening attentively. "Not f'in' likely, Sunshine. Faith? What's the best setting for blood, ya think?" The last part was almost polite. Faith wondered about that.

"Not sure," she replied blandly. "Coffee's usually a minute and a half, if that helps."

"Hmm_..._" Buffy bit her lip. "Blood's a little thicker, though. I'll set it for two."

"If it bubbles over, you are _so_ cleaning up the nastiness."

"Please. As if a creature of evil would stoop to helping with housework," she scoffed. But she did watch nervously through the viewscreen as the glass rotated.

Faith turned around to find Spike loading the other blood into the refrigerator. She watched, slightly aghast, as he took out the cranberry juice and salsa to make room for the last two styrofoam containers.

"What do you think you're doing there, bro?" she asked casually.

"Unpacking," he replied.

The microwave beeped, and Buffy retrieved her steamy beverage. "C'mon, Faith! Doncha wanna help save the world?"

"Yeah, sure. That's great and all, but can't you use Angel's house to save the world?"

"Once again, luv. Bonk fest. You're both birds. You can tell your parents she's a friend from school who's house exploded, or somat."

"Or termites! You could say my house has termites," Buffy piped up. "Ya know, this stuff tastes better warm."

"Actually, my parents are out of town for the weekend--"_ Shit!_ She thought, when Spike and Buffy both grinned.

Angel was in the cemetary. Well, one of the cemetaries. He had a flashlight out and a squirt bottle of holy water in his jacket pocket.

_How the hell am I supposed to find the right vamps?_

"Cordelia!" he hissed. There was no reply. "Alexander!" 

There was no response forthcoming from the darkness, and he really couldn't summon up any genuine regret. 

He checked his coordinates by the headstones around him, not thinking to worry about the fact that he knew the cemetaries so well. Spike had said it was between the Flanders crypt and the O'Riley headstone grouping. Okay... Right. Summers. That's it. 

He'd been called over to Faith's house less than an hour earlier, just in time to watch the indeed attractive vampiress that had attacked him at the Bronze the other night throw a temper tantrum and demand that someone get word to her childer that she wasn't dead. --er.

Faith had immediately cited hosting duties and pajamas, and Spike had pointed out that where evil vampiress went, so went he, so he had to stay there, with her. Angel had sighed, and accepted Buffy's hastily scrawled letter and directions.

Angel pulled the letter out of his coat pocket and wedged it in between the raised angel and the marker itself. He hadn't read it, but not for lack of trying. It was in French. There. Mission accomplished. He stood, brushed off his pants, and turned around.

"Hey."

_Uh oh._

Angel turned slightly to get a good look at the young man to his left.

"Evening," he replied cautiously. 

No moves were made. Finally, even he felt the pressure to break the stoic silence. "What's a guy like you doing in a place like this?" he tried.

The young man with the light red hair was suddenly in full gameface.

Angel nodded. "Oh. That's what." Then he ran.

A firm hand grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him to a stop. "Hang on, hang on," the smaller man said. He whirled the teenager around and, to Angel's general shock and confusion, let go.

"You've got the look of a man on a mission.What's going on?"

Angel struggled for words. "Huh?" he tried again. "Sorry, but isn't this usually the part where I scream?"

The vampire shrugged. "I'm not stopping you. Name's Oz." He caught on to Angel's confusion. "Oh, I'm not going to hurt you. Yet. See, I make it a point not to kill anyone doing something productive."

"Oh." Angel paused for a second. "I'm being very productive."

"Funny, that's what they all say." He put hands in pockets. "Please; I'd love to hear more."

Angel thought for a second, racing through options and the pretty much nonexistant chances for escape... "Mind if we take a field trip?"

Oz tilted his head. "So you're saying you'd be more comfortable _not_ standing in a cemetary at midnight talking to a vampire?"

"Call me crazy."

The vampire shrugged. "Lead on. I'm free for a good four hours while my girlfriend's out hunting."

Angel grimaced at the implications, and edged around Oz, towards the road. He followed right behind, giving Angel the uncomfortable impression of being stalked, or trailed.

Eventually they reached Faith's front door, and Angel knocked twice.

In the kitchen, Buffy looked up from a TeenPeople. "Was that the door?"

Faith paused for a second. She was making macaroni and cheese from a box. "I don't hear anything."

"Someone wants in, they'll ring the bell," Spike said.

Back on the porch, Angel looked over at Oz.

"Not home?" the shorter man asked.

"They should be. I don't know why..."

Oz reached over and depressed the dinger. A few seconds later, the door opened on Faith.

"Heya," she said, looking at Angel. "Get the letter sent?"

"Yeah. Made an acquaintance."

Faith looked at Oz, and smiled. "Hey. Come on in."

"No-!" Angel sighed as Oz almost-smirked. "Too late."

Faith raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Angel waved a hand to indicate his companion. "Meet my new vampire friend, Oz."

Faith slapped her forehead. "Dammit! What are the odds I'd get two in one night?"

"Two?" said Oz.

Right about then, Spike and Buffy wandered in from the kitchen, wondering what the hold up was.

Buffy blinked. "Oz?"

"Buffy?"

&& && &&

Chapter 23 of Irony Becomes Her is also up. Pardon my tardiness.

~Star Mouse 


	10. Beginning of the end? That's a Scary th...

  
Yes, you may take this chapter to signify that I have _finally_ plotted out the actual ...plot. I know. Nine chapters in! Pretty good, for me. But, um, I'd reccommend going back a couple chapters and refresh your memory, otherwise this might not seem as cool as it should be. It's officially the beginning of the end.

~Star Mouse

&& && &&

Wesley looked up when the crypt door opened, setting his book aside.

"Daniel. Where have you been?"

Oz pushed the door shut behind him. "Hunting," he replied, aiming for emotionless, and doing a good job.

"You're rather late. Dawn's been nearly frantic with worry. We didn't want to leave you behind, after all."

"Stalking a kill, lost track of time. I should go apologize." He met the senior vampire's gaze for a moment before dropping his eyes in a show of submission, and quietly walked past him on the way to Dawn's room.

He was all too aware of Wesley's eyes on him as he retreated, and had to forcibly remind himself that the Englishman couldn't _actually_ read his mind. Good thing, too. After what he'd heard tonight, Oz knew his thoughts would probably get him killed. Again.

  
@ @ @

The enemies regarded each other. 

Assessing. Testing. 

Searching for weakness. 

Weighing options.

Spike's eyes narrowed as he made his choice, and his move.

"Sevens."

The vampire rolled her eyes. "For the third time, no."

There was a pause. He seemed to be waiting for something.

She sighed. "GO. FISH."

"Thank you." He snapped a card out of the messy pile on the counter. He brightened. "Got a seven," he gloated, laying down the set, one card at a time.

Buffy groaned, and threw down her hand. "Dammit. I fold."

"What?" he asked, astonished at her childishness. "You can't fold at Go Fish."

"Watch me."

He shot her his best sneer. "Brat."

She looked genuinely surprised. "Me? You're the _brat_. Don't you know any _grown up_ games?"

Spike resigned the game to doom, and pulled the cards to him to shuffle. "Nuthin' wrong with Go Fish."

The vampire pushed herself off from the kitchen counter and wandered over to the fridge.

Spike looked up form his sortng. "More blood already?"

"What can I say? You make me hungry."

"That's not a compliment, is it?"

"Don't be silly. I _love_ spending quality time with the Slayer. Playing cards," she said, voice dripping sarcasm like venom. "It takes me back to the good old days, when I was fifty." She took a swig from the last container of blood.

Spike jumped at the segueway, fighting down his absurd instinct to crab at her for drinking directly from the bottle. "That's another thing. How old _are_ you?"

Buffy swiped the excess from her lips, missing a spot, and put the empty bottle back in the fridge. "19."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Right."

Buffy came back over to the counter, amused by the new game. "Someone's asking the wrong questions," she sing-songed. She leaned over the counter towards him and cocked her head to the side. "Doesn't that Watcher of yours ever teach you anything?"

Spike was too confused to anwer. She'd been a total bitch all night, and now... ...._Is she flirting with me? I can't--. She's like, high or something. Is ther caffeine in blood? Oh, I guess I should probably say something... What should I say?_

Off the Slayer's blank look, Buffy sighed. "You're hopeless. Your eyes are supposed to light up and then you say, 'Ah, but how _long_ have you been nineteen?'."

After a second, Spike's eyes lit up. "Ah! But how _long_ have you been nineteen?"

"Better. And I'm not telling." The vampire stretched, ignoring Spike's annoyed look. "I'm bored, and I'm all tight," she whined. Watching her turn and do a toe-touch, Spike couldn't help but agree with her on the 'tight' part. She suddenly bounced up and turned back around, making Spike whip his head up with lightning Slayer-powered speed. "Let's fight," she said seriously.

Spike sat back, trying to look innocent. "Why? What'd I do?"

She shook her head, bouncing in place, suddenly transformed into a ball of energy. "Nuthin'. I just wanna get some of this tension out. It's been a while since I've fought a Slayer, and you're here, and I'm here, and that indicates a possibility of fisticuffs of the exhilherating kind in my future."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "To me, it indicates the possibility of fangs of the vampy kind in my neck."  
`  
"Don't be a poopyhead," Buffy commanded solomnly. "I need you for the saving the world issue--"

"--which you're still being extremely vague about--"

"--and anyway, it would just be sparring."

Spike considered. He_ did_ like a good fight, and it was so rare that he had the opportunity to practice on a vampire that could actually match him. Mostly it was the newly~risen, around here. _Which I guess is kind of a bad reflection of my job performance, _he thought. During the 'training sessions' Jenny mainly acted as a mobile punching bag, bulking her slim frame up with stuffed leather pads, unless she made Angel do it. And she could weild a decent sword, but there was really no contest when it came to strength and speed.

"I suppose we could go to the library," he mused aloud. "There's space, and my Watcher will probably be there, so if you try anything, she can--"

"--watch?"

Spike shrugged. "Or shoot you with her crossbow."

Buffy considered. "Fair enough."

&& && &&

The trek to the library was made in silence --not. 

Buffy had decided before they left that she needed a disguise, in case any of her 'family' happened to see her. Spike spent the next fifteen minutes on the sidewalks making such fun of her dark glasses and ski cap that she finally threw them at him, kicked him in the shin, and jogged ahead. 

Stopping to grab Faith's sto--_borrowed_ glasses and hat cost him time, and he arrived in the library almost a minute after Buffy. She had already pulled off her duster, and was standing in the pink dress he'd admired earlier that evening, looking irritated.

"Do you have any extra clothes here? I can't spar in this."

He pulled off his own, shorter leather coat. "Weapons closet. There's a grocery bag on the top shelf. No extra shoes though; we'll make it a barefoot fight."

She nodded and followed his instructions. Meanwhile, Spike went to investigate Ms. Calender's office. It was empty.

Huh. Must've actually gone home tonight. Weird.

He came back out and stumbled to a stop.

Elizabeth the black was standing in the middle of the floor, facing away from him, barefoot and apparently wearing nothing but one of his long, grungy shirts. It came just past the tops of her thighs.

_And I thought the dress was good..._

The spell broke when she pulled the shirt up, and started trying to tuck it into the soccer shorts that had been hidden underneath. She turned to face him.

"Oh! You ready?"

"Let's do it."

They both crouched into defensive stances.

After a few seconds, Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Well, go on. Attack me."

"Uhnuh. You're the vampire, you attack me."

"The first one to attack always ends up face up on the floor."

"That's why I'm not attacking, _pet_."

"Well, someone's got to attack."

Spike sighed. Fine. He lunged forward, leg scissoring out

...and was on his back in less than three seconds. Buffy leaned over him and giggled.

"Cool! Again." She held out her hand. He took it slowly, wary of a trap.

She pulled him to his feet and took her place in the impromptu ring.

Spike shook off the weird feeling he was getting and settled back into his own place.

"'Kay, luv. This time, _you_ attack."

&& && &&

Cordelia looked up when Xander came into the room.

"Where've you been, baby?"

"Hunting."

"Find anything?"

"This." He set a folded letter on her lap. 

Cordelia picked it up, and sniffed it. "Buffy."

"Read it."

Cordelia opened the letter and scanned the lines of her original French.

"This is so typical of her,_" _she muttered after a while. She read on, then looked up at Xander. "She wants the book?"

"I'll take it." Xander crossed the room and opened the wardrobe in the corner.

Cordelia finished reading the message and stood up. "I'll go with you."

Xander turned, holding a molding book. "It'll be dangerous. If the inlaws see us leave..."

"I'd rather they see us both."

^& ^& ^&

When Jenny returned to the library, fresh pot of coffee in hand, the two were going at it with utter abandon. She stopped just inside the doors and watched them for a second. No killing blows. She relaxed, and clacked past them.

"Evening, Spike. Elizabeth."

"Watcher."

"'ello, Jen."

She went back into her office and put the pot on the warming tray. It was so irritating, those fire hazard rules. "No individual teacher, excluding the staff of the science department, may have in their possession a device which prepares food or drink with the use of a heat coil, including but not limited to bunsen burners, coffee makers, perculaters, hot plates..."

"'Ey! You can't do that!"

Jenny looked up at Spike's yelp, then back down again. _It seems like something was supposed to happen tonight... What was it?_

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you think there were_ rules_?"

"You crazy... I'm done with this."

"Waah, You hurt my feelings, so I'm not playing any more! You're just looking for an excuse to quit because you're exhausted."

Jenny started pushing around the papers on her desk, looking for the memo she half remembered writing to herself. Now that she was thinking about it, she was definitely remembering _something_ important on the schedule.

"Aren't you?"

"No breath to lose. Vampires don't feel exhaustion. I could go another ten rounds."

She checked the wall calender. Today was the third...

"The new moon," she muttered. "Tonight's the new moon."

Out in the main library, Spike eyed Buffy critically. 

"Then why are you swaying like that?"

"I'm not ...woah! Maybe I should sit down..."

Jenny came out of her office. "Elizabeth! Tonight."

The vampire squinted. "Tonight what?"

Jenny glanced at Spike, who was looking confused, then back at Buffy. "Tonight is the new moon. The Orb is at it's most potent. If you're going to go through with ...whatever it was you were going to use it for, you have to do it tonight."

Buffy's face went slack. "The new moon? A-are you sure? But that's when..."

Spike looked between the two of them.

"Are we talking about the 'savin' the world' bit, or is this somethin' else?"

"No," Buffy said quietly. "It's to save the world."

"Well, great! What've we got to do? You said somethin' about an Orb, right? We need to do some oogly boogly chanting stuff?"

Jenny was still watching Buffy's face, and starting to get an idea. "There is some chanting involved, yes," she answered Spike.

"'Kay. I'll skip that part, as per usual. But there'll probably be some nasties conjured up and such, so I can defend the magic circle, right?"

"The Orb doesn't conjure up nasties," Buffy said, looking at her lap. "They make them go away."

Spike looked to Jenny for clarification. 

She cleared her throat. "The Orb of Weelo is used in rituals to cleanse, or, or to purge unclean spirits. The Orb is given a sample of the identifier of the spirit, and it purges all spirits which bear that identifier."

Spike looked to Buffy for clarification.

"It can exterminate a vampire's demon. You identify the demon to be purged by a drop of blood from the vampire's bloodline. I'm going to use it to stop the Apocalypse."

Spike was starting to get bad, unhappy thoughts. "How?"

"By using it to prevent West, Anya, Dawn, and Oz from opening the Hellmouth."

"They're in your bloodline."

"All except Oz."

"You'll purge their demons."

"Yes."

"And it'll purge yours too."

Buffy nodded, still looking at her lap.

Spike sat down on the table. He had a feeling his ass would appreciate the forethought in the next couple minutes. "And that will do ...what?"

Neither woman spoke for a second. Finally, Jenny answered. "A vampire is a human form infected and animated by a demonic entity. Without the demon, all you have is a corpse."

Spike looked at Buffy. "This'll kill you."

"I'm already dead."

He jumped up. "Well, _yeah_! But not _really_. I mean, you walk and talk, and eat potroast and stuff. You're not just decayin' in the ground somewhere."

"It's the only way."

"It can't be the _only_ way."

She finally looked up at him, and he staggered backwards at the tears in her eyes._ No, no, no._

"It _is_ the only way. I've researched this, you know! The spell they're going to use is very old, and is pretty much going to open the hellmouth by knocking on the door until somebody answers, or the door caves in. It is to the spells you're probably used to what a sledgehammer is to a toothpick. It's clunky and powerful, and no direct attack on the spell itself is going to do an ounce of good."

"So we attack the spellcasters. _Physically_," Spike offered.

Buffy shook her head. "You really have no idea what you're dealing with. West is _six-hundred years old_. Anyanka is his childe, as am I, but she was his first. His most powerful. Dawn," Buffy's face softened, "...she's almost innocent, and pretty green. She was the Slayer seventy or so years ago. The one before Cordelia, actually. She's a skilled figher--"

"I thnk she ran away from me last week."

"Then she was opting out of an unnecessary risk, soon before the real battle. Don't underestimate her."

"But what about you! You're just-just givin' up!"

Buffy jumped to her feet, eyes glinting gold. _"I am not giving up, I'm doing what has to be done!"_

_"BUT YOU'LL DIE!"_ _And I can't lose you yet._

The thought came as a whisper, but in the desolate silence of Spike's mind, it rang clearly. His eyes widened. _I don't want to be in a world that doesn't have you in it._

He staggered back, away from the crying, determined face of his enemy. _Enemy. The enemy you had for dinner. The enemy you've kissed. The enemy you let win at Go Fish twice._

"I." he started, and realized he had no idea what to say. So he just shook his head and ran for the library doors.

No one followed him.

Jenny let the vampire regain a bit of control over her tear ducts before approaching her.

"I'll help you. What do you need?"

Buffy managed a weak smile.

"I have almost everything ready. I've been fermenting the powders I'll need in the cemetary. My childer should be bringing those and the book you lent me as soon as they get my message. Uh, you were right; it has everything about the ritual itself."

"So you don't need anything else?"

Buffy turned to look at the door Spike had escaped through.

"One more thing."

## ## ##

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~Star Mouse

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	11. Mother! That man took my soul away!

  
**Chapter 11: Mother; That man took my soul away...**  
^^ ^^ ^^

"Spike? Is that you?"

Spike sighed and let the door close. "Yeah, Da. 'S me."

Rupert came into the hall, looking very irked. He was wearing pajamas and houseslippers.

Uh oh. The glasses were off.

"Spike, do you realize it's nearly eleven o'clock --on a school night, no less? I thought you would be back hours ago; I'd very nearly called the police! Where have you been?"

"I was ...out." Spike's mind was still in too much of a jumble to think of a better excuse. "We can talk about it tomorrow, Da." He brushed past the older Giles on his way up the stairs.

"We _will_ talk about it tomorrow, but only because it is obsenely past your curfew already, and I don't want to add truency to your sins. D-don't you walk away from me!" Rupert grabbed Spike's arm and whirled him around.

"We had a bargain, son. And you have failed to uphold it. I've, I've _tried_ to give you more freedom, but you are taking advantage of it, and you are taking advantage of me. You think I haven't heard you sneaking in late? You think I'm too bloody stupid to catch on?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Da--" _I can't deal with this shite now..._

"Don't 'Da' me, son. It's not going to work," Rupert's voice was cold with the chill of a parent scorned.

Spike ignored it and continued easing backwards towards his bedroom and the blissfull oblivion waiting therein. Rupert's grip stopped him from going far. "I thought we were going to talk about this tomorrow," he said sullenly. "It can wait, right?"

"It's waited months, Spike. Your behaviour has grown more and more delinquint since the divorce. The sneaking out, the class-skipping, the, the secret girlfriends, it's like you're _punishing _me."

"Da, I'm not--"

"_You are!_" There was a tense pause while the echoes died away.

"You are being a selfish little _brat_ about all this, and I do _not_ appreciate it."

Spike coolly matched his father's glare. He broke the angry man's hold without any real effort, and put some space between them.

"You're right. I've been a bad, rude man, and I'm sorry. Tomorrow, I will accept my sentence and eat my crow or whatever the bloody _hell_ you want me to do!" His voice rose towards the end, until his father involuntarily flinched backwards. His eyes shined with the absolute rage of an usurped dictator. 

Spike's were merely blank. "But right now, I'm going to bed. And I think you should too."

He turned and walked into his bedroom. Just before the door clicked shut, he heard his father offer one last parting shot, voice quavering in anger.

"You are my son, and you are _still_ a child, Spike. You will not be a _man_ until you learn to put others before your own selfish wants. Learn to sacrifice your petty little desires so that others may receive theirs. Men do not take out their pain on whoever happens to be convienient. That's not way of a gentleman. You are not a gentleman, and you are not a man. You're an insolent little child."  
**  
**Spike let the latch click closed and locked it behind him. Numbly, he crossed the room to his bed and eased down onto the edge.

_Sacrifice._

He'd only realized he didn't hate her hours before, and now he was expected to give her up?

_Put others before your own selfish wants._

He wouldn't even get a chance to explore these terrifying feelings bubbling up in his stomach. So much left undiscovered, all because the soulless creature had to be heroic. How was it that she was so set in her duty, when more than anything he wanted to scream at the sky, "Fuck Earth!"

_Sacrifice your desires so that others may receive theirs._

Hell with it.

He started taking off his boots. See if he cared. She had it under control, he'd just let _her_ handle this apocalypse.

He felt a breeze.

"Well, come on in. It's not like you need an invitation." 

He looked up. Buffy was sillhouetted against the filtered glow of the streetlights, still wearing his t-shirt. She climbed over the window sill and approached the bed. His eyes followed her movements as she hesitantly sat down beside him.

For a while, neither spoke, then:

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Why?"

There was a pause.

"I'm, uh, not sure, actually. It's sort of weird." She picked at the bedspread. "But I feel like I should have told you."

"You should have."

"I didn't realize you would care."

"I do."

"I know." She turned to face him, and he reluctantly raised his face to meet hers. This brought them pretty close together. She was practically speaking into his mouth.

"I don't like this. I don't really _want_ to cease to exist, you know. I ..railed against it for months after I realized what needed to be done." She met his eyes. "But there are things in this world worth that kind of thing."

Their lips were inches apart. Spike glanced down.

"Such as?"

Centimeters.

"Such as..." She smiled. "Rodeo Drive."

Spike pulled back slightly, brow marred with a confused frown. "Huh?"

Buffy pulled his head back with a firm hand, slowly closing the distance between them. "I would _kill_ to live in LA," she murmered. "That close to that many shoes?"

And _then_ they kissed.

Blah blah, 'duelling tongues' blah blah 'moist cavern' (ugh, that's an irritating one) blah blah cliche, cliche, cliche. 

The important part is that Spike was gripping her cheekbones like she were a porcelin bouy in a raging storm. And Buffy was kneading his neck like the feel of his muscle was the only thing that could convince her of reality.

See? I don't need those cliches. I can make my own.

They kissed for a while. Then for just a _teeensy_ bit more. Spike was breathing through his nose, so they didn't come up for air for a good four, five minutes.

Then they broke apart because Buffy's fingernail had sliced Spike's neck.

The Slayer pulled back, once again confused. "Ow! Wha--" But he didn't actually finish that thought, because Buffy swooped in and attached herself to the welling wound. He felt her fangs suddenly puncture his flesh. 

Spike gasped. _It hurts. It hurts like ...something's pulling the fluid from your veins._

His vision started to black dot.__

Sacrifice your desires so that others may receive theirs.

Shaking, Spike put his hands back to Buffy's head and held her against his throat while she drank.

When he blacked out a few minutes later, they fell limply to his sides, and he slumped in her arms.

** ** **

"No, Faith, it's fine. You can stay home. We're taking care of it. ... No, she's not here. Elizabeth just had to get a few things, but we've got everything under--"

"You're the Watcher."

Jenny turned around. There were two vampires behind her. "--control." She hung up the phone. "Who sent you?" She managed to ask.

The female tossed her hair. "Buffy; who else?. Here's the book." She passed off the tome, and jabbed a finger at the creature next to her. "Xander's got the smelly dust stuff. Right now, I have to go wash the mold off my hands."

She high-heeled to the exit.

Jenny looked back at the remaining vampire, a little nervously. His dark hair was shaggy, and a bit in front of his eyes, but she recognised him. The Watcher felt a littel star shock go through her.

"You were Alexander Harris."

"Still am. Where do you want this?" He gestured with the genuine cauldren in his arms. When Jenny didn't respond, he prompted, "It's sort of heavy, if you could just--"

She snapped out of it. She gestured to her left. "Here, in the cage. Anywhere on the floor's fine. Oh, but not inside the circle of salt!"

Cordelia burst through the doors. "They're close."

Xander instantly snapped to attention. "Why?"

She came up against him, and threaded her arm through his. "I don't know, but when I was in the bathroom, I sensed them. Still far off, but definitely headed in this direction."

"The other vampires?" Jenny asked. She opened the book.

Cordelia shot her a disbelieving look. "No, the rabid leperachauns! Of course the other vampires!"

"Here." Jenny scanned the bookmarked page. "Cordelia?" She waited briefly for the nod of confirmed identity before continuing. "You need to scatter the ashes you brought evenly over the circle. Get as little as you can outside the ring of salt. Xander, do you remember your training?"

The brunette nodded.

"Good. I want you to take this and start the preliminary chants. With any luck, Elizabeth will return in time to continue the ritual without stopping."

Cordelia questioned, even as she went about her instructions. "I don't understand, though. Why are they coming here?"

Jenny looked grave. "Because they want to open the hellmouth. And it's right under your feet."

When the doors burst open for maybe the seventeenth time that night, all three jumped.

"It's okay," Buffy said. "Just me. But I felt the Family outside." She turned to Jenny. "How long will this take?"

"I'm not sure. The texts aren't really good about estimated time for preperation. Did you find what you were looking for?"

Buffy held up a glass vial of dark red liquid. "Yeah. I got it."

Jenny squinted. "What is that? It looks like--"

"Blood. One last feed, to save the world."

Jenny looked a bit unnerved. "D-did you.."

"No. I left him alive."

$$ $$ $$

"Uuh..." Spike came awake slowly.

_What happened?_

He was lying on his own bed, on top of the covers. He twisted his head to read the clock and winced.

He put a hand to his throat, and remembered.

_She bit me._ _ It was all an act. She fed off me._

Then he noticed the problem with the scenario.

_She didn't kill me. Why wouldn't she kill me? It's not like she really needs--_

His blood. She'd needed Slayer blood. Not_ him._ He sat up slowly. He felt a little faint. There was a squeak when he put his hand down to steady himself.

He felt leather under his palm.

_No._ He looked down. The Jacket. The leather duster that had so unfortunately obscured her ass the first time they met, was lying on his bed.

A present.

_A parting gift_, his mind whispered.

"No." He stood up. "No..." _Where're my bloody boots? _ "No, no, no." _Stake. Holy water. Stake. _"No." _Jac--_he grabbed the duster and pushed his arms through the sleeves. _Why does she have something that fits me so well?_

He left the bedroom.

His boots made loud clomps on the stairs, but he was way too panicked to care. He beelined for the downstairs closet and dug through the winter coats for the duffel of extra weapons he kept stashed there.

There were footfalls on the stairs.

"Spike? What in the name of Queen and Country are you doing?"

"Nothin, Da. Go back to bed."

He could have sworn his father growled. "Spike, I have had just about enough of this foolishness. Did _nothing_ I said earlier sink in? Stop whatever it is your doing and get back upstairs this instant."

Spike ignored him, zipping the duffel and hoisting it over his shoulder. He headed for the front door.

"Where are you going??"

Spike stopped and pulled a wooden cane from the umbrella stand. He tested it for balance.

_"Answer me!!_"

Spike turned to regard his father. Rupert was red in the face and gripping the stair rail with the strength to dent.

"Later."

He opened the door. There was an inhuman roar behind him.

_"Spike William Giles, do not leave this bloody house!"_

Spike stepped lightly onto the porch and jumped the stairs to the walk.

Rupert ran to the door, but didn't cross the threshold.

_"If you don't come back now, don't bloody well bother!!"_

The teenager turned at the mailbox and kept walking. He casually raised a hand and flipped his life the bird.

@@ @@ @@

"Emogada," Buffy whispered. "Belean moge. Del dia emode..."

The cage was locked. Xander and Cordelia watched her tensely through the bars. The vampiress was seated in the middle of the circle, scattered over with the ashes and marked with the Slayer's blood.

Her eyes were locked on a distant point as her hands went through the necessary motions, and her voice droned on.

"Dieysta immortalie. Daemno nix. Daemno nix. Daemno nix..."

Xander gasped when he realized just what his sire was doing.

  
...And the library doors burst open.

Four black-clothed figures strode in. West first, trench coat billowing. Anya just behind him, smiling eerily and hefting a leather sachel. Dawn and Oz followed side by side.

All but Oz registered surprise to see Xander and Cordelia blocking their way.

"Here you are," Anya said. Xander and Cordelia silently stood their ground. "How did you know to come here?" the blonde asked.

"They didn't," West said thoughtfully. "Someone else..." He took a few more steps, getting past the card catalogue and spotting Buffy inside the cage. "...brought them here. Elizabeth."

"Buffy?" Dawn asked. "I don't understand." She turned to Oz for an explanation, but he was tensely focused on West's approach of the cage. 

Buffy was still in a chanting trance, seemingly unaware of the goings on around her.

"Emogadae. Belea daemna. Mogean di della."

"...I cast out this demon which bears this sign..." West muttered. His eyes widened behind his glasses when she put the knife to her arm.

"NO!" He hurled himself at the cage doors with a bang.

Buffy snapped out of the trance.

"Moge..." She looked around at the furious and frightened face of her sire, behind him at the people she had spent decades following, the two scared brunettes she had taught to follow her. 

Slowly, Xander nodded. Buffy swallowed.

"Emoga die daemnae. Nix lea daemnae cor." Turning her eyes to meet those of the creature that ate her soul, she put the knife back to her skin.

"Emogadae." West rattled the cage doors frantically, trying to get to her. 

"Belea daemna." Behind him, Xander pulled Cordelia to him and hugged her tight.

"Mogean die--"--

and the library doors burst open.

_"Buffy!"_

All heads whipped around. The knife froze just short of piercing Buffy's skin.

"The Slayer!" Dawn gripped Oz's sleeve.

Spike held the cane up like a sword.

"I'm gonna kill you all with a walking stick."

#$ #$ #$

This is where you review to tell me how jerky the flow is.

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	12. The end of the world as we know it?

  
  
**Chapter Twelve: The end of the world as we know it?**

  
@@@

West eyed the teenager and his cane without much real terror.

"That's you're weapon? Surely you don't think you can take us all on, all alone."

Spike smirked. "Not alone."

Xander, Cordelia, and Oz attacked simultaneously.

Dawn was shocked. "Oz!"

***_In Faith's kitchen, Buffy and Spike watched Oz digest the news that his family was going to bring hell to earth._

"Huh."

"Evil's all well and good, Oz, but they're taking it too far. It's not just puppies and kittens that are going to suffer. Hell's hell, and I don't know if you've heard, but vampires are pretty damn impure. Let the real_ demon's out to play, and food shortages are the least_ _of our worries. Think about that."_

Silence.

"It's going to be the new moon," Buffy continued. "I'm not really sure when that is, but it should give me enough time to put my counterattack in motion."

"Which is what?"

Buffy glanced at Spike. "That's not important. The point is, you need to pick a side. It's a ''with us our agin' us'' kinda thing."

"You'll kill them?

'Them'_ "Yes. That seems like the safest bet."_

He thought for a minute.

"Not Dawn. Leave Dawn out of it, and I'm in."

"Fine," Spike said. "Your little girlfriend'll be fine." 

He missed the way Buffy bit her lip.***

--Dawn tried to pull Oz off of Anya, but he threw her away from him and drew a stake. The older vampiress caught his wrist and snapped the stick. She landed a blow across his face that sent him staggering back. Xander caught her from behind, and after a brief struggle, Anya thew him against the cage. Cordelia jumped her, and Oz started back into the melee, chair leg in hand.

Meanwhile, Spike and Wesley were grappling on the floor, in clear sight to the vampire in the cage. 

Buffy watched the fight in horror. The younger vampires and the Slayer wouldn't last long against West and Anya. And once Dawn decided that her boyfriend had betrayed her, things would only get worse.

She looked around herself at the circle. She couldn't stand up without breaking it, and she didn't know how much assistance she could provide in the field of battle, anyway. The first, aborted attempt at the spell had left her woozy.

There was a harsh cry from the teenager as West got in a bite. Spike managed to throw him off, but his neck was bleeding profusely.

_He's already weak_, Buffy thought. _Because of me. And now he's going to die, instead of me._

It's what Slayers are supposed to do. You're immortal. He should_ be the one to die. That's the way these things work._

No.

Grim-faced, Buffy brought her hands out in front of her, bloodstreaks up and the Orb of Weelo in her right hand.

"By the power of this blood, raeran," she whispered. "The essence of the warrior cast back the demon, daemna. Bloodthirst immortal, dieysta immortalie. Destroy the demon. Daemno nix..."

  
West had grabbed a chair, and was using it to block Spike's jabbing cane. At some point in the scuffle it had broken off, and the end was now a jagged point.

Every now and then the Slayer got in a close shot, but somehow the vampire always managed to block him. Buffy had been right. These things were too good. He was in way over his head. And he was running out of blood and breath.

Xander, Cordelia, and Oz fought Anya as a unit, stepping up and dropping back. Cordelia jumped back to avoid a kick, and knocked into the research table. She glanced down.

"Oh, that's nice."

Anya snarled at the two men gripping her arms. "_Traitors. You turn against your blood??"_

Cordelia stepped up. "No. They turn against _your_ blood." Her hand snaked out, and shoved the pencil through Anya's ribcage. "Entrails are gross, and so are you."

She stepped back, and Anya's shocked expression fell away in a puff of dust.

There was a screech from the corner. The three shook off their glaze and looked at the charging Dawn.

"Right," Oz said. "We're gone." He bent down as Dawn ran at him and caught her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. He ran out of the room, girlfriend still screaming and beating at his back. Her screamed obsenities echoed down the hall. 

(Later, she forgave him and they made their way down to Brazil and spent many happy years drinking the blood of South Americans.)

Cordelia grinned at Xander. "Well, that was actually kinda--"

"Look."

She turned. Buffy was chanting again, and Wesley had Spike pinned against a bookshelf.

The vampire's breath was cold against Spike's sweaty skin. "Well now," the creature murmered into his ear. "It's been a while since I last drank of a Slayer's veins." The hold tightened. Spike's breath sped up.

"My only regret is that you won't live to see hell."

"More's the pity," the Slayer gasped out. "I hear it's lovely this time of year."

He kneed Wesley in the crotch. With Slayer strength.

The vampire sunk to his knees, and Spike kicked him onto his back. He grabbed his cane from the floor and put a boot down on West's chest.

"You know," he said, panting. "I _really_ don't like you."

He drove the cane into his chest.

Spike wobbled a bit when his screaming footrest crumbled to dust, but strong hands caught him before he fell.

"Good riddance," Xander opined. "Now maybe you could get the girl out of the cage before she kills us all?"

"Huh?" Spike looked dazedly at the book cage

...where Buffy was deep in a trance, muttering the words of the spell.

"Buffy!" He pulled himself out of Xander's arms and flung himself at the door. "Buffy, stop!"

"Emoga die daemnae. Nix lea daemnae cor..."

"She's almost finished," Xander said behind him.

Spike kicked the latch. It held fast, and he was weak. He looked over his shoulder at the brunettes standing uncertainly. "The key! It's on a chain next to the door in the office!"

Cordelia instantly disappeared into Jenny's empty office. Spike took a few steps back and rammed his shoulder against the hinge. It made a loud noise, but nothing else.

"Emogadae. Belea daemna. Mogean di della..."

Buffy raised the knife to her arm. 

Cordelia ran up behind Spike and shoved the key into the lock.

_The knife slid across her skin, leaving a dark trail...  
_  
Cordelia fumbled with the key.

...It started to drip.

The Orb began to glow.

The door came open, and Spike dove in.

The first of the drops fell towards the dusty floor within the circle of salt.

...They hit the Slayer's leg.

Spike grabbed the glittering, light bulb of an orb out of Buffy's clenched hand and hurled it at the wall.

It shattered into stardust, and Buffy jumped.

"Wha--?" She looked around, gasping with discharged power. "Did I do it?"

Spike grabbed her face and turned her head to him.

"No. I did." He crashed his lips down onto hers.

Xander put an arm across Cordelia's shoulders as they watched the two blondes suck face.

The former Slayer sighed. "This is _so_ typical of her."

@@@@@@  
@the end@  
@@@@@@

  
  
  
  
...Except for the

Epilogue  
"...So you see, Rupert, Spike's not actually a delinquint." 

Jenny shrugged. 

"He's a vampire slayer."

Giles sipped his tea. He looked over at his son sitting on the couch. "I see." He turned back to Jenny. "Is there a cure?"

"Uhm, no. It's a sacred destiny, not a disease. Sorry."

He nodded. He took another sip. He'd put a healthy dose of alchohol in the brew this time. Thank heaven. "And you, you're a..."

"Watcher."

"Right." Back to Spike. "Do your friends know, er, what you are?"

The blonde fidgetted. "Just Faith and Angel. And, um, Willow Rosenburg, for some reason."

Giles looked concerned. "Have you told Elizabeth?"

Jenny and Spike looked at each other.

"Uh..."

###

The small redheaded girl adjusted her miniskirt and walked into the gravestones. She found a nice spot, and stood there for a second, looking annoyed, before saying very clearly:

"Help! Help! This graveyard is dark and scary, and I'm just a defenseless and attractive teenage girl, all alone! I hope nothing tries to hurt me, because I don't know how to fight!" 

There was a second or so of waiting silence, then a whispered, "Do it again!" 

She cast a scathing look in the direction of the bushes from which the prompt had come, then sucked in a breath.

"Golly, I'm scared! I'm all alone in the graveyard with my size two ass and 32C! I'm completely defenseless!"

In the bushes a brunette sighed into his hand. "Could she _be_ worse at the bait game?"

His companion, who was wearing a headset, said, "It's not really her forte, Angel. Cut the girl some slack."

"Remind me again why _you_ aren't out there, while _she_ lies in wait?"

"You remember. Where I shove the skirt if you try to put it on me?"

The boy winced. "Oh. Right."

"Besides, her bra size isn't--" she stopped when she noted her friend's too-eager face, "--any of your business," she finished.

"Oh, no. What will I do," came the continuing, monotonic cries from the redhead. "I'm _still_ wandering around all alone in the graveyard."

There was no response. The brunette girl in the bushes scanned the perimeter with the binoculars around her neck. The redhead cast yet another glare in their direction. Her fists clenched at her sides.

"I'm O negative! I'm in a miniskirt! I'm seventeen, scantily clad, and very attractive! I'm _yummy! Come suck my blood!"_ she screamed, abandoning all attempts at subtlety.

Angel wiped a hand over his face. "Yeah, _that _won't scare them away."

Faith squinted into her binoculars. "Actually, I don't think it is." She passed off the binoculars. "I think _they_ are."

Angel took the goggles and peered into the shadowed cemetery. There was something going on a few lawns away.

"What the...?"

@@@

"This is _not_ how I want to spend my nights!" Cordelia squealed, kneeing a fleeing vamp in the back. "I _bought_ this t-shirt! And then I died!"

Buffy grabbed a vamp by the shoulders and flung him into Xander's waiting stake. "You're welcome to leave at any time, Cordy."

Another fledgling looked at her, puzzled. "Hey, why are you--"The rest of his query was lost in a cloud of ash. Spike waved it away.

"These guys really need to work on the banter," he said, looking around. "What, is that it? Used to take me an hour to clean out a nest that size."

Buffy came over and stood beside him. "Funny what three turncoats can do."

He grinned at her.

Xander and Cordelia gave each other a look.

"You know what? We're just gonna head back. You can mack in the graveyard all by yourselves. C'mon, Xander."

  
@@@

%%%%

"So, how was it?"

Spike grimaced. Buffy patted his head. "That bad, huh?"

"No, actually it was pretty good. ...Until _you_ came up."

She giggled, and shifted on the stone. "Oops. I guess he probably wasn't too happy about that whole bloodsucking creature of the night thing. Should I flee California?"

"No, actually," Spike said. He looked up at the stars for a second before turning back to the vampire beside him. "He wants you over for dinner tomorrow."

Buffy blinked. "What?"

"He felt just awful about not, oh, what'd he say ...'respecting his guest's dietary needs.' He told me to ask you what type of blood you'd prefer for next time."

Buffy threw her head back and laughed. Spike watched with interest. "That is _too_ good. What d'you think he'd say if I told him his son's?"

Spike grinned back at her. "Probably hit you over the head with a fryin' pan. I'll tell him cow."

"And I'll tell him thank you." She took his hand and studied it. "You're dad's not so bad," she said casually.

"Yeah, when he's not kickin' me out of the house," Spike muttered. He watched Buffy trace a vein up his palm and over his forearm. Her finger ducked under the leather of his sleeve, and she stopped. 

She looked up at him, mildly annoyed.

"Are you ever going to give that back?"

He grinned at her and flexed his shoulders within the worn leather duster.

"Not on your life."

"Undeath."

"Whatever." He stood up. "C'mon, luv. Let's go save the world again."

She got up off the stone bench and followed him back into the high school, where both of their destinies were waiting to be discovered.

  
@@@@

"Tell me you two weren't groping out there."

"We weren't groping out there," Spike parroted.

Willow shot him a look that told him exactly how much she believed that. Faith's face had almost the exact same expression. She nudged the brunette beside her.

"Angel, could you please tell them to grope on their own time?"

"Grope on your own time," he muttered, focusing on the page in front of him. "..._second_ Industrial Revolution..."

There was a snort. "I hear it sucked. Shouldn't we be studying _demons_ and stuff?"

Faith rolled her eyes. "Oh, look. Evil girl wants to help."

Cordelia glared at the teenager. "Could you_ please_ stop calling me that?" She turned to the two blondes. "Buffy! Tell her to stop calling me that!"

"Stop calling her that."

The door to Jenny's office opened, and she and Xander came out, each carrying at least six books.

"I just don't think we can trust this translation," he was saying. "When I was in the Council, it was considered an inferior copy."

"This isn't a translation," Jenny replied. "It's in the original Germanic. I think it's got the answers we're looking for, but I can't make heads or tails. I was hoping that you--" she saw the blondes. "Spike! Where have you two been?"

"Not groping."

As Jenny started the now-standard responsibility lecture she'd adopted from Giles, Buffy realized the redhead was looking at her oddly.

"What?"

Willow cocked her head.

"I really like your hair."

@@@@  
The End.  
@@@@

  
Wow. I actually finished something. Pret-ty exciting. I'm very impressed with me.

Thanks everybody for all the lovely reviews and e-mails I recieved over the course of this fiction, if not offering advice, at least reminding me that people were impatiently waiting for updates. Especially through the Overworked and Writers' Block periods.

Due to a lack of inspiration, several other wips in the works, and uncertainty regarding future internet access and free time, I won't be doing a sequel. You, however, are welcome to.

~Star Mouse 

['Blondes Menu] [Continued Soon!]  
  
  


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